Rustlings in the Dark
by Neisseria
Summary: Alternate fourth year: a forgotten foe plagues Hogwarts and Harry is left trying to solve the mystery as he is plunged into another adventure. Harry/Padma
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own zilch

Author's Notes: This is my first story, so feel free to be as harsh as you want. And if you do see any spelling or grammatical mistakes, please tell me.

Chapter One

Looking at the calendar had become something of a habit. It was only the second week into the holiday and already Harry was looking forward to returning to Hogwarts. Not exactly the view expected of a teenager, but Harry wasn't exactly a normal boy and Hogwarts wasn't exactly a normal school.

Noting that lunch time – one o'clock precisely in the Dursley household – was fast approaching, Harry started to make his way downstairs as quietly as possible; he had learnt from a young age that the Victorian view of children – that they should be seen and not heard – was the best approach with his only remaining relatives. Even now, years later, the endeavour to be as unnoticeable as possible still remained; conditioning from childhood, Harry supposed.

His aunt frowned at him as he took his usual seat but said nothing. She had hardly spoken to him at all since his return from Hogwarts. Harry wasn't too bothered about the silence, though, since it meant less chores being handed out. Looking back with hindsight, blowing up one's aunt wasn't a bad idea. It also helped to have a serial-killer for a godfather.

It wasn't long before Dudley waddled in and took the seat furthest from his cousin. It seemed the incident with Aunt Marge the summer before had resurrected memories of a certain curly tail and Dudley had decided that it wasn't worth antagonising his freakish cousin. Harry personally thought the diet Dudley had been forced onto had led to a lack of the energy needed to continue the game of Harry Hunting.

Uncle Vernon, no doubt the most volatile member of the Dursley family (though maybe that should be altered considering Marge Dursley's exploding properties), would not be joining them. He was working over the summer and was most likely indulging in a larger and no doubt unhealthier option for lunch. He was only subjected to the same diet that the whole family was on – to boast Dudley's moral, you understand – for dinner and at the weekend.

As it was, lunch, much as it was the day before and the day before that, consisted solely of vegetables. "My favourite," lied Harry as he noticed Dudley's dismayed face as Aunt Petunia passed him his salad (which was noticeably bigger in size than Harry's). It was actually the highlight of Harry's day seeing Dudley's downcast expression every time he was served food. It was something that Harry conveyed in detail to his two best friends from school through letters.

Eating in stilted silence, Harry wondered whether Ron would ever get back to him about visiting the Burrow again. Despite the amusement of seeing Dudley in misery over his healthy diet, Harry would infinitely prefer to be as far away from the Dursleys as possible. Looking between his aunt's piercing gaze and what Dudley no doubt thought were subtle glances, Harry was pretty sure that the sentiment was returned fully. If there was anyone who hated him being back at the number four more than himself, it had to be a member of the Dursleys. Harry was secretly curious as to why they had put up with his presence as long as they had, especially after the Aunt Marge incident, not that he'd ever ask (another thing deeply ingrained from his childhood).

It was when Dudley had finished his last radish that Harry decided to take action. After so many years of being chased and, if caught, beaten up by his only cousin, Harry felt it only fair to pay Dudley back for the misery that was his childhood in any way possible.

"I'm stuffed," he informed the silent room, pushing away from the table and stretching in a slightly exaggerated fashion. He then made a point of looking at his plate where a single piece of lettuce remained. He frowned deliberately, as though in thought, before looking at his cousin who was following the proceedings – specifically the lettuce - with a close eye.

Aunt Petunia frowned at him once again, obviously realising what her nephew was doing, but unable to think of a way of stopping him. She could hardly give her dear Dudders extra food when that was exactly what she was trying to cut down on.

Hiding a grin at the way Dudley's eyes were greedily fastened on the last remaining bit of leafy green vegetable, Harry continued on. "Do you want it, Dudley? Please, help yourself."

Harry tried to remember in detail how Dudley's eyes flickered between him and the lettuce, obviously torn. The mind verses the stomach was how Harry liked to view it. From the way Dudley's eyes rested more on the pale green vegetable, it was clear that the stomach was winning.

"I think I'd explode if I ate any more."The words were spoken with a casual offhandedness but the effect was instantaneous. Dudley's eyes, a moment before glued on the one remnant of the salad lunch, lifted to meet Harry's. Dudley was pale now and his hands were reaching downwards and out of view, though Harry had a good idea where they were heading.

He waited for a few seconds before carefully sculpting a face of polite questioning. "Well? Do you want it or not?"

His pale cousin shook his head quickly in response.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Your loss," he muttered softly and picked up the last thing on his plate. "Guess I'll have to eat it, then," and he munched down on the crunchy vegetable, devouring it in a few bites.

"S'pose I could fit in a bit more," he said, closely watching his cousin's eyes cloud with slight despair as he realised that he'd missed out on a bit of extra food.

Ignoring Aunt Petunia's icy glare, Harry placed his now clean plate in the sink and sauntered towards the kitchen doorway. Turning just before he left, he smirked at his overweight relative. "Maybe next time it might be too much for me; I hear death through explosion is becoming a more common problem nowadays."

And walking up the stairs to his room where a stockpile of food was hidden, Harry thought that maybe the Sorting Hat, much as he hated to admit it, had a point.

000

The rest of the summer seemed to drag on indefinitely. Days went by with hardly any contact between Harry and his sole remaining family, which suited everyone just fine.

Occasionally Harry would accidently mention something outside of the Dursleys' boundaries of normality, but the mention of Sirius Black, escaped convict and Harry's godfather, usually soothed over any difficulties. It also helped when Sirius held up to his promise from the end of the school year and made an appearance in Kent that the BBC news quickly leaped on and broadcasted nationwide.

While finding it extremely handy having a well-known murdered to name-drop, Harry wasn't exactly sure what to write to his falsely convicted godfather. It didn't help that Harry had only met the man in person once, and half of that time had been taken up with accusations. What could he possibly say to the man who he should have known his whole life but hadn't? It was an awkward subject to think on and one Harry usually dismissed, excusing himself with the justification that Sirius was on the run and Hedwig _was_ rather distinctive.

Of course, that wasn't to say that he hadn't been in contact with his father's best friend. Sirius had sent him two letters and a birthday card along with a much appreciated birthday cake. The letters had distinctly informed Harry that if he ever needed help then Sirius was always there. But the young wizard couldn't really justify questions about his parents as needing help and had instead replied with assurances of his safety, hopes that Sirius was safe wherever he was and a detailed account of Dudley's failed attempts of sneaking in extra food.

It was much easier writing to his two best friends. Hearing from Ron and Hermione made life less boring and allowed him to imagine for a moment that he was there with them instead of being stuck with his muggle relatives.

The summer was so boring, in fact, that Harry had actually finished most of his homework within the first week of returning home. Only a History of Magic assignment on how the Vampire Purges of 1348 had affected the goblin rebellion of that same year had remained undone until Harry could think of no other way to avoid doing it. With all his school work out of the way, the only thing left to do was read his textbooks and then it was only to casually flick through, searching for interesting spells that the teachers had skipped over in class. Apart from that, he had wasted time trying to think up tragic and dire predictions that he could use in his Divination homework.

But soon he would be free from number four, Privet Drive and free from the Dursleys for another year. In only one more hour the Weasleys would be picking him up, though how Harry wasn't entirely sure on. All Harry cared about was escaping Privet Drive and getting to watch the Quidditch World Cup which was being hosted in Britain.

Deciding after one final check that everything was packed safely away in his trunk, he made his way downstairs where his only remaining family were tensely waiting for the Weasleys' arrival.

Aunt Petunia was constantly peeking out at the road from behind the pastel curtains with greater frequency than normal, while Dudley seemed to be hiding upstairs, no doubt afraid of any interaction with the magical world after the encounter with Hagrid's umbrella three years previous. Uncle Vernon, home for the weekend, was dressed up in his best suit. He kept pacing around the living room, obviously agitated from the idea that some freakish beings were coming to his house before collapsing with a heavy lurch onto the sofa and flicking through the Sunday edition of the Daily Mail without bothering to actually read it.

The tension was high enough to be cut with a knife and Harry quickly moved into the hallway. Sitting on the stairs he waited about with frequent eager glances at his watch, wishing that time would speed up.

Five o'clock finally came about with no sign from the Weasleys. Uncle Vernon, sweating heavily in his confining suit, came into the hallway. He quickly opened the door and peered out before swiftly shutting it with a quiet thump. Having seen no approaching cars he glared at his nephew. "They're late!" he snarled.

"I know," Harry acknowledged. "Perhaps it's bad traffic or something," he suggested, more to soothe his own nerves than those of his uncle.

The minutes drifted by. Five past... then quarter past. Harry was starting to worry now. "Come on, Ron, where are you," he muttered to himself.

He even spotted Dudley sneak a quick look down the stairs as though he, too, wondered where Harry's friend was. Glimpsing Harry waiting on the bottom step Dudley couldn't help but taunt him. "Sure you've actually got a friend?" He mocked, his piggy eyes lighting up with malicious delight as he hopped down the stairs with all the grace of a rhinoceros. "Sure you didn't just imagine you have a friend. After all, who'd be friends with a pathetic little wimp like you."

Harry jumped up from his step and faced his cousin. "My my Dudley, did you think up all that by yourself? Is that what you've been doing up in your room all this time? And here was me thinking you were hiding from the big bad wizards."

Dudley's podgy face screwed itself up into what Harry interpreted as a scowl. He looked like he was stretching his mind to think up a reply.

But fortunately for Dudley his brain cells were saved from having to tax themselves into forming a suitable retort by the cry of outrage emanating from the living room. It was closely followed by Aunt Petunia's high-pitched shrieking.

Dudley, taking this as a cue to leave, high-toed it back upstairs, his hands firmly clasped over his buttocks.

Scarcely paying any mind to his fleeing cousin, Harry rushed into the living room to see what was going on.

"What is it?" gasped Aunt Petunia as she moved backwards on shaky legs. "What is it, Vernon?" Her terrified eyes stared unblinking at the fire as she leaned against the nearest wall as a support.

Uncle Vernon made no response. It was voices from within the blocked up fireplace that answered Petunia's query.

"Ouch! Fred, no – go back, go back, there's been some sort of mistake – tell George not to – OUCH! George, no, there's no room, go back quickly and tell Ron-" Harry easily recognised the pained voice of Mr Weasley.

It was quickly followed by another voice – this time one of the twins. "Maybe Harry can hear us, Dad – maybe he'll be able to let us out-"

Aunt Petunia let out a shrill "Eep" as a loud hammering of fists resounded from the fireplace. Her pale blue eyes widened in fright.

"Harry? Harry, can you hear us?"

Both his aunt and his uncle rounded on him in horrified outrage. It was obvious to Harry that they blamed him for all of this.

But Harry didn't care what they thought of him. He wouldn't have to see them for another year and it wasn't like they wanted him around for the next fortnight.

He approached the fireplace unflinchingly. "Mr Weasley? Can you hear me?"

The hammering stopped immediately. There was the quick sound of someone shushing another.

"Mr Weasley, it's Harry." He paused, wondering how to explain. "The fireplace has been blocked up. You won't be able to get through."

"Damn!" cursed Mr Weasley. There was a silence and Harry wondered what exactly the Weasley patriarch was planning. "Well, I suppose it's the only way... stand back, Harry."

Harry heeded the advice and retreated behind the sofa. Uncle Vernon, on the other hand, edged forward.

"Wait a minute!" he bellowed at the fire. "What exactly are you going to-?"

Uncle Vernon was cut off as a small explosion tore through the fireplace to reveal three red-heads covered in bits of plaster and chipping. The rest of the room had also suffered with the broken remains of the electric fire scattered around the floor and a cloud of rubble dancing in the air.

Seeing his uncle's blustering face quickly turning a particular shade of magenta, Harry was happy to let Mr Weasley sort out the entire mess. He was also greatly relieved to be able to escape the Dursleys' household a while later when Mr Weasley lit up a fire and told Harry to go while he sorted out fixing the fireplace and Dudley's engorged tongue (he had foolishly eaten a sweet one of the twins had 'accidently' dropped while upstairs collecting Harry's trunk).

It was only once the spinning began that Harry remembered why he hated travelling by Floo. It was disorientating at best and nauseating at worst. He briefly wondered as blurred fireplaces whirled past him why wizards, for all their magic, hadn't made a more comfortable method of transport.

Only the quick action of throwing up his hands allowed Harry to retain some appearance of balance and stopped him from falling flat on his face. He hoped he might be getting the hang of flooing.

After a brief interrogation from the twins on the effectiveness of their Ton-Tongue Toffee and a quick introduction to Ron's two eldest brothers, Harry was quickly shuffled along upstairs by Ron and Hermione to avoid the erupting argument beginning between Mrs Weasley and the twins. Ginny, Ron's youngest sibling and the only girl, trailed after them.

Before long Harry was caught up on all the news. It seemed nothing much had changed in the Weasley family except for Percy and his new obsession with his boss, Mr Crouch, and standardised cauldron thickness. Other topics, like Sirius were left for another time with the presence of Ginny.

It was only when they could no longer hear Mrs Weasley's yelling that they felt it safe to venture downstairs once again. Dinner was nearly ready and Harry and Ron were quickly charged with helping to set up the table outside; with so many people staying at the Burrow it was necessary to eat outdoors. It wasn't long before panoplies of food lined the table.

"So how's good old Hogwarts?" Ron's oldest brother, Bill, had taken up the seat next to Harry, while Hermione sat to his left. "I'm always hearing about you, Ron and Hermione and your adventures."

"Hogwarts is good. It probably hasn't changed much since you were there: McGonagall's still strict, Flitwick's still short and Snape's still a git towards the Gryffindors." Harry hoped that his answer was alright; it was a bit intimidating talking to someone as cool as Bill Weasley seemed to be. Harry didn't even consider that Bill might feel a little strange talking to the Boy Who Lived, the legend from his childhood.

"Good to know some things never change," grinned Bill.

Wondering what he ought to say next, Harry leaned over the table to grab some more salad, grinning as he thought of Dudley's reaction to so much food on offer.

"What about curse-breaking?" One of the things Harry had picked up from his uncle was that people loved to talk about themselves. Subjects most open for discussion included family and work.

"Best job in the world," Bill enthused. "I'm on a retainer with Gringotts. They point us in a certain direction, provide all the necessary equipment and provisions and we get to remove any latent curses. It's usually on ancient tombs; that's why most of the work's in Egypt. The ancient Egyptians came up with some really nasty curses and it's a case of putting your mind against the mind of someone who died thousands of years ago.

"It's also a great way of collecting curses. Every time you 'break' a curse, so to speak, you get to copy it down in your own, well, I'd guess you'd call it a grimoire." Harry nodded along despite having no idea what a grimoire was. "Sometimes you have families of curse-breakers. One of my friends, Archie, comes from a family with five generations of Curse-Breakers. His repertoire of curses is massive since they've been passed down."

"So what actually is a curse? Isn't it just a spell?" Harry wasn't quite sure how it was possible for a curse to last centuries.

"I'm guessing you don't do Ancient Runes."

Harry shook his head. "Divination and Magical Creatures, I'm afraid."

Bill sighed. "The youth of today. Divination's a load of bollocks and Creatures is useless unless you're planning to run off to Romania to get burnt by a bunch of dragons." He smirked at a disgruntle Charlie sitting opposite. "I did Muggle Studies and Runes. To be honest Runes is the only optional subject that actually helps in the real world unless you're an arithmatic genius.

"But getting back to Runes, at NEWT level you learn how to manipulate different runes and charge them up. They're considered the best way of storing magic; that's how wards are created. Different combinations of runes lead to different results. I suppose you could also say that runes form the language of spells."

"So it's like a code." Harry wondered why no one had ever mentioned runes before. All he could remember about them is that Hermione liked the subject and was constantly writing out translations for homework. He'd never paid much attention to her long monologues about what she actually did in her other classes.

"Exactly. And curses are really just wards set up for the sole purpose of harming. If you want I'll show you a ward construct after dinner."

Harry smiled. "Yeah, that'd be great. I think I'm starting to regret choosing Divination now." The truth was Harry had regretted signing up for Divination after the very first lesson; especially when Trelawney had started making her death predictions.

"You should have abandoned the Divination tower like me, Harry," commented Hermione pompously on his other side. "Ancient Runes is far more useful."

"Yeah, well, at least with me sticking around no one else gets to suffer hearing about how their future is marked with the Grim."

000

"Making wards is the easy bit," Bill told them as he quickly retied his ponytail. "It's breaking them that takes real skill."

A small crowd consisting of Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had gathered out in the garden once again to see Bill's demonstration. Charlie was also present on the other side of his older brother, though he seemed more indifferent than interested having dropped Ancient Runes after receiving a D in his OWLs.

"Most wards are constructed from blueprints designed years, usually centuries, ago. Occasionally you get professional Warders creating their own wards or modifying known ones. Most people usually only want the normal, boring wards like the Trespasser Ward. It's only really on old buildings like Hogwarts and public places like Diagon Alley that you get really intricate wards that have been set up over the years."

"It's mostly on buildings built over a century ago," Hermione interjected loftily, ignoring Harry and Ron's roll of the eyes as Hermione provided evidence of textbook regurgitation. "Professor Babbling was telling us how some of the greatest wards are found on the seats of the old Pureblood aristocracy. Apparently the Le Fay seat of Avalon was so heavily warded that no one can find it, and Azkaban was made into a prison because of the number of wards the Dukes of Azwell placed on it before the line died out."

Bill took advantage of Hermione's brief pause to continue. "Anyway, getting back to the _practical _side of warding, I'm just going to show you one of the easiest ward constructs; it's actually the first ward I ever set up way back in sixth year."

"When you were still young and beautiful," chipped in Charlie, grinning as his older brother shot him a glare.

Bill slid his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and drew out a small wooden box. A flick of the wand later and the small box was enlarged to the size of a shoe box. It was completely plain with the lid attached by some brass hinges.

"Anyone want to volunteer something they don't particularly want anymore?" Bill asked, glancing among the group.

There was a bit of shuffling as the crowd of Gryffindors searched around for something to donate. Not really finding anything that they wanted to part with, they stared at Bill.

He sighed. "Right, then," he muttered and pulled out his hair band. He quickly showed it to each of them, even the head-shaking Charlie. "As you can see, the band's black." Harry wondered whether Bill had ever been to see a Muggle magician. The Curse-Breaker then placed the black hair band into the wooden box.

"Right, now Ginny, pick a colour."

The youngest Weasley shrugged. "I dunno... red."

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor," commented Bill as he crouched down by the wooden box. All the others with the exception of Charlie followed suit.

Bill then grasped his wand tightly. He pointed it at one of the corners of the lid, focusing intently as a jet of white light sprung from the wand's tip. After a few seconds the light faded and the wand was removed. On the corner of the box where the light had hit glowed the outline of a rune ("Quenz," according to Hermione) before if faded, leaving the wood surface unmarked.

The process was then repeated another seven times, marking the rest of the corners of the lid as well as the four corners on the bottom of the box. Each time the rune glowed brightly before fading completely. Every time Hermione pointed out which rune was which, not noticing Bill's unimpressed gaze.

As a finale, Bill – with a fake drum roll provided by Charlie – removed the wooden lid and retrieved his hair band. It was now red.

"Cool," remarked Ron. "Wish I'd done Runes; it looks way better than Divination."

"I did tell you to, if you remember," reminded Bill and Harry immediately knew why Ron hadn't picked it.

Harry, though, was more interested in the ward construct than in bemoaning his bad choice of subject. "So do the runes form some sort of pattern that leads to everything inside the construct turning red?" he asked, wanting some clarification.

Before Bill could respond, Hermione jumped in to answer. "Yes, that's basically what it does, though the theory behind it is a bit more technical, thus why we don't get to start on warding until sixth year. Each rune specifies an effect and you've got to include all the right runes if you want the ward to work. As Sterling put it: 'A single rune can make or break a ward'. It's actually rather complex when it comes down to it."

Bill, seeming rather miffed about Hermione's interruption, spoke up. "Well I'm a Curse-Breaker and frankly warding isn't that complex, whatever you might have read. It's more about ingenuity than theory, though that's only if you're creating a ward from scratch. Most Warders that I know are lazy gits who know about ten ward schemes off by heart and are content with that. And curse breaking is even more complex since you're constantly faced with ward schemes that haven't been used in centuries and have no blueprints so it's all about using your initiative."

Hermione didn't look happy about being contradicted, but Harry was intrigued. The way Bill described it was far more appealing than Hermione's dampening speech.

"I'm guessing the effects only extend to the things remaining in the box," Harry speculated.

Bill confirmed the hypothesis. "Localised effect is the posh term. How did you guess?"

"The hair band's gone back to being black." He pointed to the band.

"Sharp eyes," Bill congratulated, grinning at Harry. "There are all sorts of things which determine how long the effect can last outside of the construct, but that's all arithmancy which I never really bothered much with. You need to know that theory more if you're thinking of becoming a Warder," he explained. "I only know the basics since I'm tearing down wards." He paused for a moment. "And because Arithmancy is the most boring subject known to mankind."

A shout from the Burrow distracted the group. "Bill, you better start packing up now. The kids have to get to bed soon. It's going to be an early morning for them tomorrow, even if you get to lie in," reminded Mrs Weasley.

"OK, kids, you heard what Mum said," said Charlie, shooing them towards the house. "You suckers have to get up at three."

Harry tuned out Ron's whining about tomorrow's early start and turned to Bill who was reducing the wooden box back to its normal size. "Thanks for the demonstration," he said. "I really wish I'd taken up Ancient Runes now."

Bill's face took on a look of consideration. "You know, if you're serious about runes, then you could study it on your own. Up to OWL level all you're learning is what different runes mean and how to translate them. It's NEWT level when you really need some guidance. You're only a year behind, so it's not too much to catch up on.

"One of my friends in Egypt learnt runes on her own. A lot of purebloods get their kids to memorise runes when they're young as a matter of course. Learning runes is the easy part; it's applying them that's tough."

"That's probably why Hermione gets such good marks; she's great at memorising stuff. I remember when I first met her on the Hogwarts Express; she'd memorised all the textbooks. As Ron puts it, she's scarily brilliant." Harry, while proud of his smart friend, couldn't help but be a little bit annoyed at how Hermione managed to flaunt her knowledge, and consequently everyone else's ignorance, at every occasion.

Bill looked Harry in the eyes then. "She wouldn't last a day as a Curse-Breaker, Harry," he told the younger wizard honestly. "I've seen others like her: brilliant minds who know the theory inside out and back to front, but when he comes to the practical side, well, they don't have a clue and just fall apart. Books can only tell you so much and, as far as I'm concerned, I'd rate imagination and ingenuity above being clever any day."

The older Weasley then turned and walked back to the house leaving behind a thoughtful Harry. It looked like he'd have more on his mind tonight than just the excitement of the Quidditch World Cup.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I still own zilch

Author's notes: First off, thank you to the people who reviewed. That was a strange experience. Moving on, I, personally, feel that I don't write action that well so feedback on this chapter would be particularly helpful. Once again, if you see any spelling mistakes please inform me since butchery of the English language is mortifying.

Chapter Two

"Quick, get up! Get up! Ron – Harry – you need to get up now!""

Harry, sleeping in the top bunk, sat up at once, the top of his head grazing the canvas material of the tent while Ron remained groggy. "What's going on, Dad?"

But it soon became obvious what was wrong. Gone were the enthusiastic celebrations and cheers from the exuberant Irish supporters. The sounds of out of tune singing were gone. Replacing the festivities were screams and the clattering of rushing footsteps as if a stampede was close by.

There was no time to get changed as Mr Weasley hurried them out of tent with their jackets in hand, the twins at their heels. Hermione and Ginny came rushing out of their tent soon after, quickly pulling on coats. Simultaneously Percy, Charlie and Bill emerged, their tousled appearances highlighting the quickness of their change of clothes.

Mr Weasley and his three eldest children all had their sleeves rolled up with wands in hand. The Weasley patriarch turned towards his younger children and Harry and Hermione. "You lot – get into the woods, and _stick together_," he ordered. "I'll come fetch you when we've sorted this out!"

That said, he turned and ran after his oldest children who had already started sprinting towards a crowd of oncoming marchers.

Flashes of light darted across the field, illuminating a scene of frenzied confusion. The smell of smoke and burning imbued the air as tents sunk to the ground in a cascade of fire. Drunken laughter rose from people unseen. Loud jeers and shrieks drifted towards them. Ever pervading, though, was the sound of feet marching as figures, their faces disguised with masks, stomped through the tent-filled pasture firing out spells.

Above the tightly packed crowd floated four figures. Figures that Harry quickly recognised as Mr Roberts, the campsite manager, and what he presumed was his family. The airborne family were flailing about, struggling to control their movements. But they were no match for the wizards' magic as their bodies were contorted into grotesque shapes to the amusement of the growing crowd.

"C'mon," said Fred, distracting Harry from the nauseating scene. That people could find _that_ funny...

And then they were off, dashing through the myriads of smoke. Harry kept his eyes focused on the ground, trying to avoid any tent pegs, while still attempting to follow Fred through the shroud of darkness as they headed towards the shelter of the wood.

It seemed many had the same idea. Dark figures knocked the group as they stumbled through the trees. Nearby Harry could hear the sounds of young children crying out accompanied by the shushing voices of the parents. Panicked shouts in a spectrum of languages reverberated as people searched frantically for their friends.

Harry was grateful when the twins stopped in a small clearing. He had a stitch in his side and leaned heavily against a tree, catching his breath back in huge gasps. He couldn't help but think, most irrelevantly, that Hogwarts had made him lazy; during primary school he could have run a lot further without getting out of breath as he tried to outrun Dudley's gang.

"Thought we'd stop for a breather," wheezed an equally out of breath Fred. Him and George were supporting each other while Ginny had semi-collapsed onto the floor after being forced to keep up with her twin brothers.

"What – are – we – going – to – do?" panted a winded Hermione as she struggled to catch her breath. Her face had become red and blotchy from the exertion and her hair was bushier than ever.

"Can't we help?" Harry wondered aloud, remembering the terrified faces of those poor Muggles.

"No way!" George sounded the most serious Harry had ever heard him. "Dad told us to wait here and that's exactly what we're going to do."

"Still, what they're doing to those Muggles..."

"It's sick." Ron was clearly just as disgusted as Harry.

"Who were they?" asked Harry. "Those wizards wearing the masks. The ones who..."

Hermione, like usual, fielded the question. "Death Eaters," she announced quietly. "It's what You Know Who's supporters used to wear. The cowards can't even bear to show their faces!" Disgust dripped from her voice.

Harry couldn't dwell on this new titbit of information as a scream of terror rang through the forest in nearby proximity. Each of them tensed, glancing between each other with wide eyes. What was going on? Had the Death Eaters started towards the woods? A thousand thoughts swirled through Harry's head as he considered what that scream might portend.

Another scream tore through the air and with it came other sounds: a child weeping, a woman's begging and the mocking laughter of a man. A jeering suggestion was loud enough to be overheard: "Let's see what other filth is hiding in the trees."

Hermione's panicked eyes leaped to his. Each of them tightened their grasp on their wands.

The sound of footfalls was approaching. Closer and closer...

Harry thought over his three years of schooling. He didn't know how to fight. What spells did he even know? What curses could he remember? He thought back to the shortly lived Duelling Club. Well, he could cast the Disarming Charm and he knew a few hexes but, while enough to put Malfoy in his place, he couldn't see them as being effective against an adult wizard. He didn't know enough. Not nearly enough to defend himself. His mouth went dry with nerves. He didn't even know how to duel.

A stream of light illuminated where they stood, showing Harry the twins' pale faces. One of them gulped and Harry realised that the twins were just as scared as him, just as unprepared. They were all still kids.

_But you were only eleven when you fended off Voldemort_, a voice in the back of his mind reminded him. But that hadn't been him; that had been his mother's protection. _And what about the Basilisk... you were only twelve, then..._ But Fawkes had helped, he quickly refuted. And he'd been lucky; more than lucky. _But it was only a few months ago when you faced all those Dementors; that was all you... _

No one was saying anything. The sound of footsteps rustling through woodland was coming closer. They were all standing in easy view. Easy targets to be picked off...

"Right," muttered Harry, drawing a deep breath. "Hermione, hide behind that tree and stay down low," he ordered, trying to make as little sound as possible. Noticing how the white of her nightdress showed beneath the coat he directed her to button up her brown jacket as much as possible.

Seeing Harry's determined face stifled any possible disagreement. Hermione quickly moved out of view.

Harry looked up at the sky. There was a large canopy of leaves blocking out much of the moon's light. "Ron, how's your climbing ability?"

Working quickly, Harry commanded everyone into position: Ron was mid-way up a tree and was easy to spot, but only if someone looked up; Ginny was mostly hidden behind a shrub, lying fully on the ground with no complaints; the twins were crouching behind the thick trunks of two trees. Harry himself had taken up a position near the opening of the clearing, just opposite from Hermione's position and nearest to Ginny, who he felt was the most vulnerable of the group with only two years of schooling. They weren't the best hiding places in the world, but Harry was short of time and it was better than standing out in the open.

He'd quickly outlined a plan. The hiding places wouldn't last under any form of scrutiny; they would have to fight, or at least try to. Surprise was their best option and Harry hoped it would be enough.

He listened closely to the footsteps closing in on them. More than two, he guessed, but less than five. It was hard to make an accurate guess with his heart pumping so loudly that he was sure it would give him away.

Seconds ticked away. Harry's knees were starting to go numb from the cold. He prayed the Death Eater wouldn't come this way, that they would take another turning. He prayed that the Ministry wizards would protect them.

He was the first one to catch sight of a piece of dark material. His heart leapt into his throat and he had to stop himself from the urge to swipe his sweaty hair from his forehead where it clung.

The dark clad figures trod closer. There were three of them, Harry counted. A one to two ratio, but that hardly mattered with magic.

They were entering the clearing now. Harry was waiting until they got into the middle, where they could be hit on all sides. Just a few steps-

"_Somne!_" Damn! Hermione had panicked and acted too soon. One of the wizards fell down in a dead faint.

The advantage of surprise was gone now. "_Expelliarmus!_"

He wasn't the only one to yell it, but the three red beams had no effect except to rid the dozing wizard of his wand; the two other wizards were aware of them and had shields up. And now they knew where four of them were. Time to change position.

A beam of deep blue whooshed out of one of the masked wizard's wand, hitting the place where Harry had been only moments before. The shrub that had previously covered him exploded into flames.

Harry tried to think as streams of coloured light flew in the air around him. He thought he saw one of the twins get hit by a nasty yellow curse and hoped it wasn't serious. Opposite him Hermione, for all her knowledge, seemed to only be casting the same sleeping spell to no effect.

Now everyone except Ron had been cursed out of their hiding places. They were all in plain view. "_Fumos!_" cried Harry before rolling out the way to dodge an oncoming green spell.

The spell had the desired effect. The clearing was now thick with smoke. Harry used the smog as a cover to rush over to where Hermione was.

"It's me," he quickly reassured her as he found himself confronted with a shaky wand to his neck. "I need you to cast the brightest light spell you know as soon as the fog clears, OK?"

He felt more than saw Hermione nod.

He could just make out spell fire through the dense smoke. It was impossible to tell who was firing what, though he could usually tell who was shouting the incantations. The masked wizards were silent with their casting, though, and in a moment of insight Harry realised that bellowing out the curses was stupidity at its worst: the masked wizards knew what they were defending themselves against and could easily pinpoint their location.

"_Serpensortia!_" he muttered as quietly as possible. Harry had never tried the spell before but he could remember the wand movements with the clarity one only gets with bad memories. He was slightly surprised but extremely relieved when a long, venomous-looking snake appeared on the forest floor.

Hoping that this would work, Harry faced the rearing snake. "_Attack the masked wizards,_" he ordered in the snake-tongue.

Watching the snake disappear into the thick smoke, Harry returned to casting every curse and hex he could remember. He constantly had to remind himself not to shout out the spell for all the world to hear.

The smoke was quickly starting to dissipate now. But Harry was happy to hear unfamiliar cries of fear emanate from the middle of the clearing; his snake had distracted the wizards. The reptile had unhinged them enough that one of the wizards was now pronouncing his spells. "_Expulso! Expulso!_" he cried before the other Death Eater, realising what was going on, got rid of the snake: "_Vipera Evanesca!_"

Knowing that the masked wizards' distraction was coming to an end, Harry nudged Hermione and quickly shut his eyes and turned his head away from the middle of the clearing.

"_Lumos solem!_" Bright light flooded the clearing, blinding everyone who looked at it with its intensity.

Taking advantage of the situation, Harry turned back towards the clearing. "_Everte Statum!_" The bolt of orange light flashed through the air. It hit one of the Death Eaters square on flinging him backwards into a tree and into unconsciousness. Two down and one to go.

Harry turned to face the last conscious Death Eater, only to quickly duck out of the way as a red spell hurtled towards him. Harry instinctively knew that this last wizard was the smartest, if not the most powerful, of the three.

Thinking of his happiest thought, Harry pointed the wand at the darkly clothed figure. "_Expecto Patronum!_" This time he did shout out the spell, hoping to add to the distraction to find some shelter.

Prongs dashed out of his wand and charged at the surprised Death Eater. The lapse in concentration was enough for Harry to quickly scuttle away behind a tree, only to find Ginny already there. She smiled tightly at him which Harry tried to return only he had the feeling it was more of a grimace.

"You OK?" he asked, noticing her ragged appearance. His own clothes were covered in mud and slightly singed.

"Been better, but I'm alright," she answered in a bare mutter.

Harry listened closely to the surroundings, trying to figure out what was going on. From the rustling of leaves and Ron's voice screaming out spells, Harry surmised that the wizard was focusing his attention on knocking the youngest male Weasley out of his tree.

Getting his heavy breathing under control, Harry tried to think of a plan of action. The wizard's shield blocked all their magical attacks and only physical spells or all encompassing ones, like Lumos Solem, seemed to affect the wizard. Think, Harry, think, he berated himself. But his mind remained blank. Maybe if he barraged the wizard with curses the shield would fall...

Unable to come up with anything more inspired he peered out at the scene from behind his tree – only to quickly whip his head back as a red spell whizzed past hitting a tree a few metres behind them. The explosion following the collision was huge, and Harry placed himself directly behind Ginny to cover her from the worst of the extreme heat.

Seconds later the tree gave a mighty lurch and started to tilt forward. The bit of the trunk where the spell had hit was nigh on obliterated. The tree was hanging by a thread.

Inspiration hit. "Ginny," he whispered. "I need you to send as many of your Bat-Bogey Hexes to cover me. Can you do that for me?"

In the remaining glow of the explosion, Harry could make out her shaky nod. Her face was pale and clammy but filled with determination. He hoped she was able to cope.

Taking a deep breath, Harry prayed Ron would remember and help out.

"_Diffindo!_" The Severing Charm emerged from his wand with a quiet whoosh as it sliced through the air. His aim was true as the last remaining tether rooting the trunk to the ground was severed. The main body of the tree careened forward with a resounding groan.

Timing was everything. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_" The first charm Harry had ever learnt intercepted the falling tree and lifted it back into the air. Having never used the charm on so large an object, Harry found the process draining in a way he couldn't describe, as though he had run a marathon without moving from the spot.

He directed the remains of the tree towards the clearing. His concentration was such that he couldn't tell if Ginny was hexing yet or not. He raised the tree higher, hoping the Death Eater wouldn't notice as quickly.

Suddenly, the 'weight' of the tree was lifted somewhat. Ron had twigged what he was doing from his high vantage point.

The sharing of the tree's burden allowed Harry to take stock of the situation. Only one of the twins was firing any spells. Hermione was nowhere in sight, though neither was the most recently knocked out Death Eater; a matter that concerned Harry deeply. Ron was still in his tree, though both he and the tree looked more than a little worse for wear. And nearby Ginny was firing her trademark spell at a constant speed while quickly dodging any retaliatory spells sent her way.

The tree was in range of the masked foe now. The Death Eater appeared none the wiser to the aerial assault.

Time seemed to slow down, then. The remaining Death Eater had decided to employ the same tactic Harry had used earlier and flooded Ginny's position with intense light, rendering her blind. It was pure luck that Harry shut his eyes in time. His concentration was shattered now and the tree's burden was all on Ron. Ginny was staggering around, her eyes blinking rapidly and it was impossible for her to see the bolt of pink light coming towards her, let alone dodge it. Harry rushed at her, tackling her to the ground and taking the spell in her stead.

A moment later, Harry heard a pop followed by the crunch of a falling tree. Turning to look he saw the remains of the levitated tree taking pride of place in the middle of the clearing. The Death Eater was nowhere to be seen.

"Are you OK?" Harry asked Ginny who was still having trouble seeing if the continual blinking was anything to go by.

"Think so," came her breathless reply as she struggled to her feet, only to sit back down again from dizziness.

"Harry!" Hermione's scream precipitated the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione rushing towards him. He was glad to see his best female friend was mostly unhurt as she dragged one of the unconscious attackers with her to where Harry lay.

The other Death Eater was still asleep. His quiet snores were just loud enough to be heard.

Dragging himself into a sitting position, Harry focused on his friends. Ron's face was slightly cut up and his coat was barely existent, most of it being burnt away. He quickly realised when Ron asked in a much louder than normal volume whether he was alright that something was affecting his hearing. Thankfully a quick "_Finite!_" from Hermione was enough to reverse the spell.

Fred was the worst for wear out of everyone as George laughingly introduced his twin with a new nickname: Fingerless Fred. "Finger-Removing Jinx," Fred explained looking nonplussed. "I collected the fingers," he said, holding up four fingers with his intact left hand. "Now I know what Goodwin Kneen had to go through," he joked.

"That's hardly funny," commented Hermione with a distasteful look. She had a few superficial scratches to the face and a collection of leaves had taken up residence in her bushy hair.

George looked rather singed while his left arm was floppy by his side. "They did a Lockhart on me," he grinned and Harry understood that all the bones in his arm had been vanished. He also seemed to have a large cut near the top of his forehead.

Ginny looked as though she'd come out rather unscathed from the whole thing. Her red hair was filled with leaves and dirt and her pyjamas would need a good clean, but she looked unharmed and completely intact.

"But what about you, Harry? What about that last curse?" Hermione asked in concern.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. I don't feel any different, well, maybe a little warm, but that probably from all the excitement." His back also stung from the burns sustained by the heat of the exploding tree, but the adrenaline dulled the pain. "It was probably nothing," he dismissed, getting to his feet with extreme effort. His whole body felt exhausted and he yearned for a soft bed.

"What are we going to do with them?" Ron asked, nodding to where the unconscious Death Eaters lay.

"We ought –" Fred's voice stopped suddenly and Harry wondered why until he heard it. The sound of footsteps. For the second time that night, all of them tensed.

"I don't understand why Auntie Tarpeia wouldn't allow me to help. It's not as though I don't know how to duel. I'm top of my year, for Merlin's sake!" The petulant voice carried over to them. The voice sounded young but Harry still clung to his wand. Better safe than sorry.

"Because," came the long-suffering voice of a young girl, "you're not of age and you're supposed to be looking after _me_. You know – your sister who you hardly see for most of the year."

"And I thank Merlin for it. What the-?"

A boy and a girl appeared at the entrance to the clearing. The boy was tall and looked about the same age as Fred and George. The girl was about the same height as Hermione. They were both fair-haired and held themselves with an offhand grace that bespoke of years of etiquette training.

They gazed around the clearing, the quickly dying glow of a burning shrub revealing their wide eyes as they took in the combat zone. It was obvious when they spotted Harry and his friends; their wands became outstretched and the boy slid into a duelling pose, turning his body sideways to reduce target area.

"Who are you?" questioned George.

"The more important question is who are _you_?" The boy's disdainful voice rang out as he focused his wand at George.

"For Merlin's sake, Edmund, they're the same age as us," the as yet unnamed girl rebuked.

Edmund's face twisted into a scowl as he glanced at his sister. "Appearances," he said tightly, "can be deceiving."

"Oh, give it a rest," she scorned and turned towards Harry and his friends. "I'm Lucretia and this is my brother, Edmund," she introduced. "We don't mean you any harm if you don't mean us any."

Harry and his friends glanced between each other. Harry nodded at George, but still kept hold of his wand. He felt a bit dizzy but ignored it as George introduced them one by one.

"We were attacked by some Death Eaters," explained Hermione. She pointed towards the unconscious adults with her wand.

As Hermione explained the situation, Harry removed what remained of his jacket. He was still feeling hot and the dizziness... Trying to step forward he lost all sense of equilibrium and fell over onto the ground.

"What's wrong with him?" scorned Edmund and Harry, whose eyes had drifted shut on their own accord, knew exactly who he was referring to. But every movement seemed to make him dizzier and he couldn't bring himself to care about what this Draco Malfoy wannabe thought of him.

"He was hit by a spell, but we don't know what it was," admitted Hermione. "He seemed OK, but..." she trailed off worriedly.

"Let me look at him. I know a few healing charms." And suddenly the girl, Lucretia, was bending over him and feeling his sweaty forehead.

She was pretty, Harry distantly noted through half-open eyes. Her long fair hair encircled her face like a halo. He couldn't make out the eye colour but guessed at blue. Blue was such a pretty colour.

"Don't worry about me," Harry told her, his voice not sounding as strong as he would have liked. "I've had much worse than this. Basilisk venom's much worse, but then Fawkes was there to save me." Glimpsing her frowning face and confusing it with fear, Harry reassured her. "Don't worry, I killed it. The Basilisk, that is... Used the sword of Gryffindor." He attempting to lift his arm to re-enact the stabbing motion but couldn't manage it; his arms felt like lead and were refusing to cooperate.

"He's clearly delusional," he heard her announce and wanted to protest. "And he's running a fever and can't seem to use his ligaments."

"Dizzy, too," he told her weakly. "So dizzy. Why so dizzy?"

"Do any of you know what sort of spell hit him?" She had turned her head to look at the others.

There was some discussion, but it was getting harder to keep focus. Hermione was saying red light, but it wasn't red. Not red at all.

"Pink," he managed to force out. "Pink bolt... and slow... Slow spell."

"Are you sure? It's Harry, isn't it?" He managed a small nod and then wished he hadn't when the dizziness struck again. "Are you absolutely positive it was pink, not red?"

"Pink," he mumbled.

Lucinda... Lucretia... whatever her name was, was peering down at him with pity. How he hated pity. "I think I know what curse is affecting him," she revealed. Her voice was soft and filled with sympathy.

When she didn't say anything more, Hermione stepped in. "Well?" she prompted.

"The Blood-Boiling Curse," she announced. "He has all the symptoms and its spell colour is pink. A bolt of pink that's rather slow."

He heard Ron's voice from nearby. His voice was laden with suspicion. "And how would you know that? That's part of the Dark Arts, that is."

"I've seen it before," came the affronted response. "At school," she clarified.

"And what sort of school condones the use of the Dark Arts?" Fred's normally jovial voice was also filled with distrust.

"Durmstrang."

Harry had never heard of it. But maybe his hearing was going, too. It was so difficult to concentrate. And he was so exhausted.

"So _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe _was correct in-"

"Hermione," warned Ron. "This really isn't the time."

It was so difficult to stay awake. It couldn't be too bad if he just drifted off... Just for a moment. He was so hot, too. So very hot. But it was summer, wasn't it. Summer, but soon Hogwarts... He couldn't keep his eyes open. He didn't want to...

"What's that?" Ginny's shout jolted him awake.

He strained to open his eyes. He wanted to know what was going on. And why was he moving?

He realised he was being levitated. It was a decidedly odd experience, laying on nothing but a blanket of air.

He tried his level best to open his eyes but only managed to squint. Ginny was pointing at something. An orange haze in the distance. So pretty...

"Oh dear Merlin!" That was the voice of the Malfoy wannabe. Horrified. He sounded horrified.

Hermione's voice, then. "What is it?"

Malfoy wannabe again: "How could someone be so foolish!"

Then the girl. The pretty one with a halo for hair. "Fiendfyre," she pronounced softly. Urgency gripped her voice. "We need to get out of here."

Fiendfyre... That was a funny name. Harry dazedly wondered what it was and why the girl sounded so panicked.

"We can't make it in time! It's coming straight for us; the wind's blowing it straight at us!"

"_Point Me!_" It was the girl's voice once again. "_Notus flarat!_" Then a pause. "That will buy us some time, but we should leave the Death Eaters behind. They'll only slow us down and he desperately needs a healer."

"But..." Hermione's voice trailed off.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"She's right," acknowledged one of the twins. But he didn't sound too happy about it. "It's the only way we'll make it out of here."

Harry heard Hermione's voice protest. "But that's condemning them to death."

"If we don't, we all die. Or is that what you would prefer?" Edmund had lost his petulant tone and sounded extremely serious.

Harry didn't hear anymore of the conversation. He slipped back into blissful unconsciousness, drowning out Ron's encouragements and Ginny's repeated apologies. He just wanted to sleep and never wake up.

After that Harry didn't remember anything. He had to rely on Hermione and Ron to recount the quick dash out of the woods and how they had managed to find a Ministry worker who had realised the seriousness of Harry's condition and side-along apparated him to St. Mungos to be treated. Apparently, it was a minor miracle that he had survived. Something Harry had scoffed at until a nearby healer had lectured him on the seriousness of the situation.

The others had searched around for Mr Weasley while Lucretia and Edmund had quickly separated from the group to find their aunt. They had quickly spotted Bill and were eventually able to locate the Weasley patriarch as well as Charlie and Percy.

The Death Eaters had fled soon after noticing the spread of uncontrolled Fiendfyre. None of them had been apprehended and the wizard who had started the Fiendfyre was still unknown, though the Ministry was apparently following up leads. There was even a mention that the notorious convict Sirius Black may have been behind the attack, which alternatively amused and worried Harry.

Recuperating in a bed at St. Mungos, Harry's days were a mix of long, drawn out periods of boredom interspersed with what seemed like a stampede of people during visiting times. The Weasleys were regular visitors and dropped in on a daily basis. Mrs Weasley became especially overwrought whenever she saw him, but Harry was grateful for the home-cooked food she brought along. The best thing he received, however, had to be a book of Runes from Bill.

"Dug this out for you," Bill told him, handing over a slightly ragged copy of _Ancient Runes: Book One _by Virgil Dalladay. "Thought, considering you seemed pretty interested, that you might want to start learning some runes. The book's rather old, but with Ancient Runes that usually a good thing, what with people writing helpful notes; I know it helped me out in my third year."

Harry had stuttered out his thanks and immediately started to flick through. Since then, it had become the main thing Harry studied during those long periods of boredom. There was nothing else to do since he was forbidden from leaving his bed and he had been put in a private room after concerns arose over his celebrity status. And besides, it turned out to be interesting with each translation telling a story about a family of Romans living in the town of Pompeii.

But tomorrow he would be free from the white-washed walls of his room at St. Mungos. Tomorrow Harry was finally returning to Hogwarts for his fourth year. He only hoped it would be uneventful. While the adventures were exciting, he was getting fed up of always ending up in the hospital wing.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: _habeo_ _nihil_

Author's Notes: This chapter is shorter than the previous two since, well, I couldn't be bothered to drag it out.

Chapter Three

There was a short, brief tapping on the door before it slid open to reveal a smartly dressed twenty-something woman. She smiled hesitantly as she shut the door behind her.

"Minister," she addressed politely and Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, quickly lifted his eyes upwards and away from the swaying of his secretary's long legs. He'd always had a thing for legs.

"Yes, Natalie?" He hoped she wasn't here to remind him about his low popularity rating in the polls. His head of public relations, a Mr Nigel Hawthorne, had already depressed him with his current rating; an all time low that could, Hawthorne warned, affect the national election being held in early December. Apparently Death Eaters weren't any more popular today than they were thirteen years ago.

His only chance of saving the election, he had been informed, lay in the Triwizard Tournament being hosted at Hogwarts that year. The prestigious Tournament would hopefully overshadow the nasty business of the World Cup.

"I'm here to remind you of your one o'clock meeting to discuss the Triwizard Tournament. The delegates from all the schools are due to arrive shortly." Cornelius found himself admiring her full, red lips as she spoke.

"Of course, of course," he nodded. "All very exciting what with it being so near. Wish I was still at Hogwarts and could compete myself."

Natalie smiled brightly at him and Cornelius found himself sitting just that little bit straighter. She really was a pretty thing. Just his type, too.

"Conference room..." He flicked through the large number of papers on his desk, trying to find his list of appointments for the day.

"Two, Minister," she informed him helpfully. "It's all set out and refreshments have been provided. But if you should need anything else, I'll be happy to oblige."

Cornelius subtly glanced up from his desk then, wondering if she was implying what he thought she might be implying. But Natalie's smiling visage gave nothing away.

And really, Cornelius told himself as he walked down the corridor to the allotted conference room, he shouldn't be contemplating such thoughts. He was old enough to be her father. And Patricia, his wife, trusted him and he really did love her, but, well, the years hadn't exactly been kind. And he was a government official – the Minister of Magic no less! But those legs...

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Cornelius entered the moderately sized room.

"Cornelius," greeted the already present Albus Dumbledore. "A pleasure as always." Cornelius detected no insincerity behind Dumbledore's half-moon glasses.

"Dumbledore," said Cornelius, nodding in return. "Away from dear Hogwarts already?"

"Not at all. The new school year starts tomorrow. My favourite day, truth be told. All those new faces just about to be sorted. Why, I remember when I was but a boy of eleven standing terrified as I awaited my fate." Dumbledore's face took on a nostalgic appearance.

"Of course, of course," mumbled Cornelius, covering up his blunder.

"But what a year it will be," Cornelius enthused after a brief pause. "The Triwizard Tournament..." He left the name of the prestigious and ancient competition hanging in excitement.

Dumbledore didn't seem as enthusiastic. "We shall see, Cornelius, we shall see."

Cornelius didn't like the sound of that. He didn't have a chance to question Dumbledore, though, as the delegates from the other two partaking schools arrived.

"Madame Maxime," Cornelius greeted jovially, grimacing slightly as the remarkably tall women bend down to shake his outstretched hand and ended up shaking his entire arm. He briefly wondered what sort of bizarre couple had joined together to create such a woman.

The smile dropped slightly as Cornelius saw the two men who followed. "Monsieur Lambert," he greeted as the balding head of France's Department of International Magical Cooperation drew closer. "And Monsieur Blanc, a pleasure as always." The thin, white-haired head of the Department of Games and Sports in France inclined his head in greeting.

Cornelius was relieved to see the next figure enter. "Barty, glad you managed to make it. Geraldine," he mentioned, referring to Barty's secretary, "said you might not be able to make it.

"Oh, and Frau Massingham, how good to see you again." Frau Massingham, a bespectacled middle-aged woman with slightly thinning chestnut hair, was Barty's counterpart in Germany.

"Herr Braun is most sorry he is not here," she told Cornelius with only the slightest German accent affecting her speech. "His daughter broke her arm and he is in hospital now."

The last man to enter was the Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute. He was tall and thin with snow-coloured hair and a curled goatee that couldn't quite manage to conceal his weak chin.

"Herr Karkaroff," smiled Cornelius, undaunted by the man's superior size.

"Minister," Karkaroff greeted in turn, revealing his yellow-stained teeth.

Cornelius then looked at the doorway again. Ludo Bagman, the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, was also supposed to be present at this meeting but there was no sign of the retired Beater. He quickly glanced at Barty who gave him a pointed look, urging him to forget Ludo and continue on with the meeting. Cornelius took the hint.

He chuckled shortly. "It's a pleasure to see you all once again," he told them jovially. "And I guess this will be our last meeting before the event itself." His voice was filled with excitement.

"I feel best that I should interrupt now, Minister," interjected Frau Massingham.

Cornelius's smiling face turned to bewilderment. "Huh?"

"The German ministry feels - and I am sure the French will agree -" she looked towards the French contingent, "that the safety of our students is questionable if they go to Hogwarts for the Tournament."

"Safety of the students?" questioned Cornelius. "Preposterous!"

"'Ardly prepost'rous," disagreed Lambert.

"But – but Hogwarts is the safest place in the magical world!" the British Minister of Magic declared.

It was Karkaroff who took up the gauntlet next. "Once, maybe, but I seem to recall the escaped murdered Sirius Black breaking into Hogwarts only last year." An alumnus of Hogwarts, Karkaroff seemed to have no love of his _alma mater_.

"If I may interrupt," began Dumbledore, entering into the discussion. "No child came under harm last year from Black and I hope you can recall that he was captured on Hogwarts grounds."

"But I specifically recall that Black escaped from Hogwarts." Karkaroff's cold eyes sent a challenge at Dumbledore.

"Indeed, I cannot deny it," admitted Dumbledore. "However, I am sure you of all people, Igor, will remember the power that Voldemort-"everyone flinched but Dumbledore carried on regardless "- once wielded. And it is rumoured that Black was his most loyal supporter, unless, of course, you are willing to admit that Sirius Black was not in fact a Death Eater?" Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled.

"I would not know," spat Karkaroff before falling silent.

A stiff silence permeated the room for a moment before the Headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy spoke. "Ah, but Dumbly-dorr, can you guarantee zat zis sort of zing will not 'appen again? I mus' zink of my students and zair safety."

Dumbledore peered over his half-moon glasses and looked her right in the eye. "My dear, Madame Maxime, I am afraid my ability in Divination is lacking to say the least and I am sadly unable to predict any possible misfortune that might occur within the next year, but I give you my utmost assurance that I will do everything in my power to ensure the safety of any student within Hogwarts."

"While I do not question your power, Professor, you still offer no firm promises. The happening with Black took place under your sight, unless I am mistaken." The comment came from Frau Massingham, her light brown eyes piercing from behind her thick-rimmed glasses.

Dumbledore sighed slightly. "I cannot deny it."

Seeing how the argument was swinging in favour of the foreigners, Cornelius stepped in to take control. "Well if you're so concerned about it-"

"We are," interrupted Madame Maxime.

"-then I will personally see to it that the British Ministry will provide extra security." Cornelius couldn't quite understand why Barty sighed so deeply at his words.

Barty's French counterpart lifted an eyebrow. "Like ze extra security for the Quidditch World Cup, hmm?" He turned towards his government associate. "Monsieur Blanc, if you please."

The white-haired Blanc who had remained silent throughout the meeting removed something from his inside jacket pocket. A swish of his wand later and the retrieved object was enlarged. Cornelius swallowed heavily when he realised exactly what it was – a copy of the Daily Prophet.

It was a copy from a few days ago. Just after the World Cup. A moving photograph of a burning forest with the fire taking on the shapes of gigantic beasts: serpents, dragons, chimaeras... In the picture people were fleeing from the fire with the occasional fiery creature pursuing them, sometimes with devastating consequences.

Monsieur Blanc cleared his throat before beginning to read the article aloud. "The Quidditch World Cup, a time of _célébration_ and national pride as ze world focused its attention on Britain. In actuality, a disaster waiting to happen. For some, ze World Cup of nineteen-ninety-four will be remembered only as a tragedy, and for uzzers as a lucky escape.

"Cheers of _célébration_ turned to cries of fright and zis eentrepid reporter felt it 'er duty to discuzzer what was wrong and keep ze public eenformed about what would prove to be major Ministry blunders. Ze vaunted security zat Minister Fudge 'ad lauded only days before proved to be nozing more than a joke as dark wizards dressed in masks reminiscent of Death Eaters began to terrorise ze public unchecked."

Cornelius shut his eyes, wishing he could drown out the sound of Blanc reading. Damn Rita Skeeter and her downright obnoxious reporting!

"... Ze culprit of ze Fiendfyre, which took ze lives of at least zwelve people, 'as not been eedentified with one Ministry worker 'eard remarking zat "Ze Ministry 'ave no clue who did it". With 'zis in mind, ze government's claims of "Following leads" lacks any assurances and could be considered a downright untruth. Ze Ministry with zair lax security 'as no control over ze situation."

He paused, now mid-way through the article. "Do you wish me to continue?"

"No, that's enough, thank you," Cornelius muttered, bordering on rudeness. He only wondered now what all this set-up was leading to. "I do assure you, though, that the author of that article is notoriously biased and unreliable. I also assure you that the Ministry does have leads that we are pursuing at this very moment in time."

No one looked impressed with his little speech and he could tell that none of the brought the 'pursuing leads' response; several of them were politicians, after all.

"Evidently," began Monsieur Lambert, "even your own countrymen do not believe in your Ministry's security measures. 'Ow do you expect us to believe in zem?"

Barty spoke up then and Cornelius felt a surge of hope that he would somehow save the day. It was not to be, however. "What exactly are you suggesting, Monsieur?"

"Zat 'Ogwarts is not suitable to 'ost ze Tournament," declared Lambert. "Ze 'onour should go to eizer Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. Do you agree, Frau Massingham?"

"I agree," said the German witch.

Cornelius couldn't believe what was happening. "But – but, all the plans! It took a whole year to set up and everything would need to be rearranged. You can't alter all that in a few days!"

"I agree," stated Frau Massingham. "Dat is why I vote to move the Triwizard Tournament to next year."

"What? But – but –"

"But what, Minister? You said yourself zat more time is needed. We are seemply postponing ze Tournament for anuzzer year."

"Which school, then, would host the Tournament if not Hogwarts?" Barty asked, obviously remembering how four and a half months of the planning had been taken up with discussions over which school would take the honour. Hogwarts had eventually been settled on since, had the Triwizard Tournament not been stopped, Hogwarts would have been the next school to host.

Monsieur Lambert glanced at his German counterpart. "While I would vairy much like Beauxbatons to 'ave ze 'onour, I do not wish to go through anuzzer four months debating." Cornelius smelled a conspiracy. "Zerefore, France passes on ze 'onour to Durmstrang."

Frau Massingham smiled, a glimpse of her white teeth showing. "Does Hogwarts concede?" She asked turning to Dumbledore and bypassing Cornelius entirely.

Dumbledore gave a small smile. "I have learnt over the years to pick my battles wisely, Frau Massingham. Hogwarts concedes, on _this _occasion."

Cornelius was wondering when everything had started to get out of hand. Things were happening too quickly.

"Then we are all agreed upon, _ja_?" Frau Massingham glanced between each member of the table. The members of the French contingent were all nodding. Dumbledore's head inclined gracefully, conceding to the German witch. Karkaroff was smirking in glee. Barty gave a stiff nod, his narrow, toothbrush moustache doing nothing to cover up his grim frown. And when the head of the German Department of International Cooperation turned to face him, Cornelius could do nothing but paste a slightly pained smile onto his face and nod.

What quickly followed was a serving of refreshments, but Cornelius was too preoccupied to later recall what he ate. Discussion over the new plans carried on throughout.

"Of course, we thought," said Frau Massingham referring to the German government she represented, "that we might think of altering the group number of students coming to Durmstrang. That was one of the main problems we saw with the previous arrangement."

"_Oui, oui,_" agreed Madame Maxime eagerly. "Ze separation of a small group of students from ze main school is most disagreeable. I often feared for zair education in certain areas with _moi_ as ze only teacher for an entire year."

"A matter I, too, found unpleasant, Madame," concurred Karkaroff with a crooked smile. "I preferred how the Triwizard was organised originally, with all the students travelling to the hosting school."

Dumbledore, finishing off a cucumber sandwich, added his own opinion to the mix. "Well I always thought it a great shame that the number of tasks was cut down to three. I felt a greater number of challenges offered a better chance of showing the variety of the students' skills. We will, of course, have to rethink all of the challenges."

"What?" It was obvious from the expressions of the Germans and the French that they hadn't thought of this.

"_Warum?_" questioned Frau Massingham, her shock making her slip into her native tongue.

Dumbledore was forced to explain. "I believe in the rules it states, though I ask Barty to confirm or deny this, that the tasks, while proposed by any school, must be organised by the hosting country." He looked over to Barty.

"Indeed that is the case," he confirmed. "And no task may copy one arranged in the competition consecutively previous. All the tasks planned for the Hogwarts tournament are therefore removed from consideration."

"So we 'ave to think up new tasks," repeated Monsieur Lambert, his facial expression not able to mask his annoyance at this turn of event.

Dumbledore smiled jovially. "A good job we have an entire year, then."

000

Twenty seven eaten sandwiches later along with a quick fire call to the Romanian dragon reserve to cancel plans and conference room two had emptied somewhat. Only three figures remained behind: Cornelius, Barty and Albus Dumbledore.

"Can someone please explain to me what just happened?" Cornelius asked aloud. "I came here to help iron out any small problems and – and now..."

"Durmstrang is to host the Triwizard Tournament," finished Dumbledore with a weary sigh.

Cornelius still couldn't believe it. "But how, Dumbledore? How did this happen?"

"I'm afraid we were outmanoeuvred, Minister," Barty told him. "There was little we could do with both the French and the Germans agreeing."

"But that's what I don't understand! Why were the French backing the Germans' bid? It makes no sense. Why, throughout all the meetings they seemed to be at each other's throats half the time! It just makes no sense."

It was Dumbledore who chose to enlighten the Minister. "In Germany's newspaper today you will find that the contracting bid for building a new hospital in Dresden was won by the company _L'Aurore_, which is-"

"French," finished Cornelius.

"And which happens to have a major stockholder in Jean Lambert."

Cornelius huffed. "Of course it does, that French swine. I always knew there was a reason why we hate the French so much."

"_Quid pro quo_," Barty said softly under his breath.

"What was that, Barty?" asked Cornelius. "My French has never been that good."

Barty looked at the Minister in contempt. "It's Latin, actually. It means tit-for-tat."

"What?" Cornelius thought about it for a bit. "Oh, right. Yes, yes - that's it exactly."

There was a lull for a few seconds. "So what are we going to_ do_?" Cornelius eventually asked.

"What do you mean, Minister?"

"I mean, what are we going to do about all this? The Triwizard Tournament, Barty? What are we going to do about it?"

Dumbledore sighed again and pushed his slipping half-moon glasses up his nose. "I am afraid, Cornelius, that there is nothing we can do except attend some meetings over the next year and, from what I could gather, convey the entire student population at Hogwarts to Durmstrang in a year's time, or thereabouts."

"But – but everyone in the Ministry knows!" Cornelius cried. "I'll be a laughingstock. Merlin only knows what will happen if that damned Skeeter woman gets hold of this!"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "That, Cornelius, is the responsibility that comes with the office of Minister of Magic. I, for one, would never want it. I am quite content with my office at Hogwarts, which," he said pulling out a strange pocket watch with all sorts of dials from his pocket, "I must be returning to for there is much to do before tomorrow. So I shall bid you both farewell, Barty, Cornelius." He nodded at the both of them and headed towards the door.

"Until the next meeting, Dumbledore."

"Yes, well - goodbye."

With Dumbledore's departure, Cornelius was left with Crouch. "So it's really not going to happen, then? There's really not going to be a Triwizard Tournament this year?" The reality of the situation was starting to settle in.

"No, there is not," Barty told him bluntly, his annoyance with the minister's incomprehension beginning to show. "Now if you excuse me, I, too, must return to my office. I have a meeting to attend to."

"But – but, Barty, what am I going to do?" Cornelius could only think of Nigel Hawthorne's words: "The Triwizard Tournament is you're only hope for salvaging the December election".

"That," said the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, a man who had himself narrowly missed the office Cornelius now held, "is your problem, Minister." He then opened the door and left the room, leaving behind a man whose life had just taken a most unfortunate turn for the worst.

It didn't help that, not five minutes after Barty's exit, the door opened. This time it revealed the tall figure of Ludo Bagman. His round blue eyes sparkled and his lips were turned up into a smile. Looking around he noticed that only the Minister was present. "Sorry about that, Cornelius," he apologised. "I didn't miss anything important, did I?"

And Cornelius, deciding then and there that the world had something against him, dropped his face against the conference table and said nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I still own nothing

Author's Notes: Once again, many thanks to those who reviewed; it's always nice to get some feedback. Again, if you spot any errors, please tell me and I'll correct them at once.

Chapter Four

"Are you sure you're OK, Harry?" This was the third time Hermione had asked that question and his patience was quickly coming to an end.

"For the third time, Hermione, I am fine, alright." His hands tightened around the handle of the trolley carrying his trunk and Hedwig's empty cage – Hedwig having already left for Hogwarts under her own power - along the platform.

King's Cross, as usual for a weekday at rush hour, was extremely busy. People wearing black suits and carrying briefcases streamed along at an accelerated pace as if someone had pressed the fast-forward button on a VCR. A disembodied voice humming in the background announced train arrivals and departures along with the ominous "Mind the gap" warning.

Trying his best to dodge the endless flow of businessmen and women, Ron brought up the rear of the trio. "Stop bothering him, Hermione," he complained and Harry felt a spark of gratitude for his best friend. "St. Mungos-" Hermione turned her head round to glare at him "- would hardly have let him out if he wasn't well," Ron carried on regardless.

Hermione huffed but said nothing.

"Besides," mentioned Harry within Hermione's ear-shot, "one of the healers said I have to go to see Madame Pomfrey as soon as we arrive to be checked out. Seems I'll be missing yet another Sorting," he bemoaned. The only Sorting ceremony he'd been present at in the last three years had been his own.

After a few minutes more of battling against the crowds, all of whom seemed uncaring unless you also happened to be dressed in a suit, they reached the barrier to cross into platform nine and three-quarters. Harry with his rather conspicuous bird cage went through first, leaning against the wall that would allow him entry onto the magical platform. He didn't fancy running at the wall again after an incident in his second year when the gateway had become solid due to a particular house-elf's interference.

Ron and Hermione followed him through shortly afterwards engaged in some petty bickering. Harry sighed slightly, not wanting to get involved in what could easily turn into a full-scale argument.

In some ways, Harry thought to himself, it might have been better if he'd made the trek by himself to King's Cross. As it was, his two best friends had turned up at half-eight that morning at the hospital and told him they were accompanying him to the station. To think he had been so happy to see them only thirty minutes ago.

"At least the Hogwarts Express is here," commented Harry in a louder than usual voice.

Thankfully it drew their attention away from each other and towards the gleaming scarlet steam engine. Harry wondered what was different about it this year before realising that there was no steam coming out of it.

"'Course the Hogwarts Express is here, Harry," said Ron giving him a slightly weird look. Harry thought of explaining that he was referring to the time, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. Ron probably didn't realise that Muggle trains only arrived a few minutes before they were supposed to depart. Hermione evidently got what he was on about and they shared a smile.

"Come on, we get a choice of compartments this year. Perks of being early for once." Ron had already started moving towards the train.

Harry and Hermione trotted off after him. "I don't see what's wrong with where we normally sit," commented Hermione to him. "It's not as though the compartments are any different; they're all identical."

Harry merely shrugged in reply, not too bothered either way. As long as he didn't have to share a compartment with Draco Malfoy he'd be happy.

Eventually, after several minutes of bickering, it was decided that they would sit in their usual compartment – the very last one. "Well, I guess it _is_ tradition," conceded Ron at last.

Upon reaching the last compartment, however, it was discovered to be occupied. A girl reading a newspaper looked up as they entered. She had protruding silvery-grey eyes and her long dirty blond hair was pinned up into a messy bun. Hanging from her ears were what appeared to be a pair of orange radishes. She was already wearing her Hogwarts robes that declared her a Ravenclaw.

"Oh!" Ron cried in surprise. "I – we, er – hi," he said, stumbling over his words. "We thought this compartment was empty, but it doesn't matter; we'll leave you to it."

"You don't have to go, you know," said the girl, her voice rather dreamy. She lifted her eyes from the newspaper and looked at them, her eyes unblinking. "I don't mind if you stay."

"Nah, that's fine," Ron told her, waving away her offer. "You probably want to save the seats for your friends."

"I don't have any friends." It was said in a completely matter-of-fact way as though it was a fact of life.

Harry was suddenly reminded of his own childhood. He hadn't had any friends until he'd entered the magical world. He had once been like this strange girl before him (though he didn't think he could ever match her in strangeness).

"Well, if it's OK with you," he said to the girl, ignoring Ron's incredulous look. "Can't break tradition now, can we?" He sent a pointed look to both Hermione and Ron before dragging his trunk in and sitting down opposite the girl who had started to stare at him intensely. He waited for the eventual glance towards the forehead but it never came.

There was an awkward silence where no one said anything. Hermione pulled out a book to read and Ron was staring out of the window.

Realising that it was up to him to break the unnerving silence, Harry introduced himself.

"I know," replied the girl. "And you're Ronald Weasley and you're Hermione Granger," she said nodding in the direction of his two best friends.

There was another silence and Harry was forced to plough on, trying to make conversation. "And, sorry, but I don't know your name."

"Luna Lovegood." Hermione gave a muffled snort of laughter. "I'm in the year below you. I'm a Ravenclaw." She smiled dreamily at him. "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," she said in a sing-song voice.

Harry didn't quite know what to say in response and so just smiled uneasily at her. He was starting to wish they had sat elsewhere.

"How come you're here so early?" He forged on. Ron was still staring intently outside the window and Hermione appeared absorbed in her book.

"Daddy got a fire call about the Rotfang Conspiracy this morning. He had to quickly drop me off before going to meet his contact," she explained.

"The Rotfang Conspiracy?" Harry had never heard of it.

Luna's eyes, if possible, seemed to grow wider. "You've never heard of the Rotfang Conspiracy?"

Harry shook his head. It always seemed to him that he knew hardly anything about the magical world.

"But that's terrible. It's a conspiracy to bring the Ministry of Magic down using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease." Harry thought she was joking until he heard the seriousness in her voice. "Some departments are even helping from the inside. The Aurors," she confided, leaning forward slightly with wide eyes, "are even part of it."

Before a confused Harry could say anything in response, Hermione burst in, obviously unable to stop herself. "That's a load of nonsense," she declared bossily. "There's no such thing, Harry."

Luna was looking at Hermione in pity. "They've got to you already. I'm so sorry."

The look of outrage on Hermione's face forced Harry to turn away in an attempt to control his laughter. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Ron, too, was trying to withhold his laughter.

"Next thing," Luna continued on, "you'll be declaring that there's no such thing as a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

This, too, Harry had never heard of. He was pretty sure it wasn't listed in _Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them_.

"There is no such thing as a Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

"Of course there is," insisted Luna. "There are plenty of eye-witness accounts. They just happen to be very shy creatures."

"That's absolute nonsense," snapped Hermione. "Everyone knows there's no such thing."

Luna tilted her head slightly at Hermione. "You're a Muggleborn, aren't you?"

"Yes," Hermione answered cautiously. Luna didn't exactly fit the usual mould of a Pureblood extremist but one could never be too sure.

"And did you, before you found out about Hogwarts, believe in magic?"

"No," she acknowledged carefully.

"Then, if you didn't believe in magic which you now know to be real, how can you easily dismiss the Crumple-Horned Snorkack just because it hasn't been listed in a textbook?"

Harry thought Luna raised a valid point. He remained silent, though, not wishing to earn Hermione's wrath.

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. "There's still no such thing as the Rotfang Conspiracy," she muttered loudly.

Luna merely sighed at that, shaking her head slightly in pity. "Then how can you explain what happened at the World Cup?"

Hermione frowned, looking warily at the Ravenclaw witch. "What do you mean?"

"Well the Aurors were the main security only they didn't do much and now it's unlikely that Minister Fudge will be re-elected. Unless," considered Luna as she bit her lip in contemplation, "he releases his army of Heliopaths-"

"Of what?" Interrupted Ron.

"Heliopaths," reiterated Luna, her dreamy voice filled with wonder. "Great spirits of fire! They gallop across the ground burning everything in their path."

"What absolute nonsense! That's just some stupid thing that a newspaper like the Quibbler would write. Absolutely no factual content whatsoever!"

"Excuse me," said Luna; her voice had suddenly lost its dreamy quality. "My father's the editor of the Quibbler."

"I – oh," stuttered Hermione, looking embarrassed. "Well... it's got some interesting... I mean, it's quite..." Her voice trailed off.

"Er, what are Aurors?" asked Harry, breaking the awkwardness of the situation.

"Dark-wizard catchers," explained Ron. "Bit like Hit-Wizards, really, only a bit more advanced."

"Oh, right," said Harry. "But how come they weren't able to defeat the Death Eaters at the World Cup?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but Luna got in first. "Because of the Rotfang Conspiracy."

"Hardly," snapped Hermione. "The _real_ reason is that it takes three years to become an Auror and the intake is only a few, usually about five or six a year and has been for the last ten or so years. The other reason is that a lot of Aurors died when You Know Who was around. The Ministry just doesn't have enough of them to face off that many dark wizards. That and, well, some people agree with what the Death Eaters stand for and crowded around them."

It sounded to Harry that the Ministry was rather incompetent. And it seemed most witches and wizards were useless as well. He remembered how adult wizards had been fleeing during the World Cup instead of trying to help. Something was dreadfully wrong with a world where a group of teenagers could just about defeat three adult Death Eaters while hundreds of adults fled the scene.

"Then they should encourage more people to become Aurors," Harry announced. "Or at least make sure people know some defence spells."

Ron just shrugged. He'd been brought up in this world and couldn't see much of a problem with it. "It's not as though You Know Who's back or anything. It was probably just a one off," he dismissed easily.

Hermione, even though she had been brought up in the Muggle world, seemed unconcerned. "I'm sure the Ministry will do something about it. Amelia Bones – that's the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement - said they were trying to encourage more people to become Aurors or at least Hit-Wizards. But the wizarding world is much smaller than the Muggle one and there's only about forty graduates each year and they need people to train in other professions such as becoming Healers or Warders. Besides," she said huffily, "if you don't want to do a certain job you shouldn't be forced to."

"But you need a strong police force," argued Harry.

"Polease?" Ron questioned.

"Muggle term," Harry explained. "They're the people who catch criminals and solve crimes."

Ron nodded along but Harry could tell that he didn't care. Ron didn't share his father's enthusiasm for all things Muggle.

"I agree you need _a_ police force, but a strong militant presence is hardly necessary in the magical world. People should be allowed to decide what they want to do with their lives," argued Hermione.

Luna, looking up from her newspaper, peered curiously at Hermione. "So the needs of the one outweigh the need of the many."

"I hardly said that," Hermione retorted.

"In a way, you did, Hermione," Harry said. "What if no one wanted to be an Auror for decades and suddenly war broke out. Then what?" Harry usually tried to shy away from arguments but conviction was overruling his dislike of it.

"That's a ridiculous argument since it wouldn't happen," dismissed Hermione.

"But wouldn't you agree that the magical world is much more dangerous than the Muggle world?" Harry pressed on.

He never got to hear Hermione's answer, though, since the compartment door slid open, distracting them all.

"Ginny?" Ron said, surprised. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to get here at half-ten."

"And guess what time it is," she deadpanned. "Mum wanted me to check you got here OK. I had to spend an age looking for you."

Ginny, with her flaming red hair loose around her face, looked round the compartment. "Oh, Luna," she said in shock. "What are you doing here?"

Luna, who had once again reverted back to reading her newspaper, looked up with her pale, protruding eyes. "Reading," she replied dreamily.

Ginny looked over to where Hermione sat, raising her eyebrows in question. Hermione gave an unimpressed look in response and they shared a smile. Harry glanced between them, wondering what he was missing.

"Are you going to come out and see Mum, then?" Ginny asked her brother, looking away from Hermione.

Ron scrunched up his nose. "Yeah, I better if I don't want the Howler treatment. Coming?" He asked, turning to his two best friends.

Harry and Hermione both answered affirmatively and stood up to head out of the compartment. Just as they were about to leave, Harry turned back to Luna.

"We'll be back in a bit. Save our seats for us, will you?"

Luna nodded. "Okey doke," she told him, smiling with a far-away look.

Stepping off the train and back onto the platform Harry immediately spotted the plump form of Mrs Weasley scanning the train looking for them. As soon as she spotted them she hurried over, hugging each of them in turn.

"Are you sure you're OK, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked him straight away, concern evident in her gaze.

"I'm fine, Mrs Weasley," he assured her. "The healers said I'm fine but I have to check in with Madame Pomfrey to make sure I don't relapse or have any side-effects to the potions."

She smiled at him. "That's good, dear. Arthur and I were so worried. And to think that Death Eater got away with it..." Her smile dimmed.

Harry shuffled uncomfortably, unsure what to say to that.

"Mum," complained Ron from Harry's side, "you forgot Pig's cage."

As it turned out, Mrs Weasley had merely shrunk the empty cage to avoid the notice of Muggles.

Having enlarged the cage to its normal size, Mrs Weasley remembered something. "Oh, and Ron, you forgot to pack this." From her hand-bag she had pulled out a folded piece of clothing. It was maroon in colour and Harry thought he could just make out a hint of white lace. Mrs Weasley held it out to her youngest son.

Ron obviously seemed to recognise the item and started shaking his head. "That's not mine, Mum – it's Ginny's."

Ginny started to look at the velvet cloth in horror. "I'm not wearing _that_!" She, too, seemed to know what the clothing was.

Mrs Weasley was frowning, now. "Don't be silly, Ron. Of course it's yours."

But Ron was still refusing to take it. "But, Mum," he pleaded. "It's a _dress_!" The last part was said in an anguished whisper, as his eyes darted around, hoping no one was looking their way.

"What, is Ron thinking about going drag?" The twins had arrived.

"I always thought he had a slightly feminine look about him."

"Not really my type, personally."

Mrs Weasley was glaring at Fred and George while Ron was fuming, his cheeks flushing red in anger.

"That is a most becoming blush, Ronalda," commented what Harry guessed to be Fred.

"MY NAME IS NOT RONALDA!" shouted Ron, losing his temper completely. His face quickly turned entirely red as several people nearby stared at him, starting to twitter amongst themselves.

"Fred! George!" Mrs Weasley glared at them and the twins' faces immediately morphed in to a contrite expression.

"Truly sorry, old girl," apologized George.

"We simply didn't realise you wanted to think up your own female name. I'm starting to think Fredrica, but... maybe not," Fred quickly added, noting Ron's anger.

"Stop it, Fred!" This time Mrs Weasley's look stopped the twins' teasing.

She then turned to Ron. "It's not a dress, Ron – they're dress robes."

"_What_?" said Ron, looking horror-struck.

"Dress robes," repeated Mrs Weasley, her voice revealing a hint of annoyance. "It says on your school list that you're supposed to have dress robes this year... robes for formal occasions."

Ron still looked appalled. "You've got to be kidding me," he said in disbelief. "I'm not wearing that, no way!"

"Everyone wears them, Ron!" said Mrs Weasley crossly. "They're all like that!"

In the background Harry realised that the Hogwarts Express was starting to release billowing clouds of steam. The platform was looking a lot less packed and he noticed that most of the students were onboard.

Mrs Weasley had noticed this, too. "Now don't be so silly, Ron. You're wearing this." With that said she pushed the offending item into Ron's hands.

"Now it's nearly eleven and you need to get on the train." She quickly hugged each of them again, even the twins and a still disgusted Ron, and began chivvying them onto the train.

They all hopped aboard. Ron, for a moment, seemed tempted to drop his dress robes into the gap between the platform and the train, but a warning glance from Mrs Weasley made him reconsider.

And then the Hogwarts Express was departing and they were all waving out of the window until Mrs Weasley had disappeared from view.

Ron was giving the twins a dirty look.

"You're hardly going to win any beauty contests glaring like that," George commented with a shake of his head.

"Oh, sod off," muttered Ron.

"And hardly the language expected of a young woman," added Fred.

Ron made a rude hand gesture and the twins soon departed, leaving Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny behind. The four of them quickly walked down the corridor to the very last compartment.

"That's strange," commented Ron as he slid the door open. "That weird girl's disappeared."

Peering in from behind Ron, Harry looked around the empty compartment. "Her trunk's still here, and so is her newspaper."

"Maybe she just went to the toilet or something. Besides, who cares," commented Ginny, sitting down in Luna's seat. "I don't get how you even ended up sitting with Loony."

"Loony?"

"Loony Lovegood," Ginny clarified. "It's what everyone calls her. Or did you not notice the weirdness?" She joked.

Harry, who found his own relatively harmless moniker of 'the Boy Who Lived' irritating enough, was the only one who didn't laugh.

"I know, it's not very nice when you think about it," added Ginny when she noticed Harry's unsmiling face.

"No, it's not," agreed Harry.

"Then again, with a father like hers it's hardly surprising," said Ginny. "He's as mad as a hatter. According to Mum, he went a bit unusual after his wife died. That's when he started up the Quibbler and started going on about conspiracy theories and imaginary creatures. Luna just picked it up from him."

The conversation soon turned from the still absent Luna to the chaotic events of the Quidditch World Cup until drifting into Quidditch territory. Ginny, Ron and Harry were all big fans of the game while Hermione, who preferred to keep her two feet firmly on the ground, was apathetic and only watched the games where Gryffindor played to support Harry.

The discussion grew louder as several of their friends popped in on them. Seamus Finnigan and Ron, hearing that Neville, a round-faced, forgetful boy who shared their dormitory, hadn't seen the game, took it upon themselves to describe the game play-by-play. Harry even dug out his pair of Omnioculars which had part of the game recorded on it.

Meanwhile Dean Thomas was sitting next to Ginny and attempting to explain football to the Pureblood witch. Every so often she looked up to see if Harry was watching her talk to the Muggleborn wizard. Unfortunately for the youngest Weasley, Harry was heavily engrossed in the Quidditch discussion and didn't even notice her. Hermione, growing tired of the endless Quidditch talk, had buried herself in a textbook.

It was near the latter end of the nine hour journey that the compartment door slid open to reveal the pinched face of Draco Malfoy accompanied by his two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

"To what do we owe the pleasure?" enquired Harry dryly.

"Ah, Potter," drawled the Malfoy heir. "I didn't expect you to be present; I had hoped you'd still be recovering."

Seamus, Dean and Neville all looked at Harry curiously. The story of Harry's time at St. Mungos and how he'd come to be there hadn't been publicised and Harry didn't feel like talking about it. He got enough attention as it was.

"I suppose you came out of it all unscathed," said Hermione, accusation colouring her voice.

Malfoy turned his attention to Hermione. "Ah, the Mudblood," he sneered. "I'd so hoped that you might have perished in the fire. Shame."

"You watch your mouth, Malfoy!" shouted Ron, fumbling for his wand.

The blond Slytherin just laughed, his two bodyguards slowly catching on and laughing too. He stopped laughing, though, when he realised that every Gryffindor in the carriage had their wands out and pointed in his direction. It seemed even Draco Malfoy could work out that seven verses three weren't favourable odds and so consequently decided to scarper.

"Er, Harry?" asked Neville quietly after Seamus finished shutting the compartment door. "What was Malfoy talking about when he said he thought you would still be recovering?"

But Harry waved off the question and quickly turned the conversation back to Quidditch. There was an unspoken agreement between everyone who had been present in the fight to keep what had happened in that woodland clearing between themselves. No one asked again.

Just over two hours later, the train started to slow down. Empty sweet wrappers littered the compartment and when Ron started to stand up it was found that a cauldron cake was splattered across his chair. They all laughed with the exception of Hermione who frowned before cleaning it up with her wand.

Luna had never reappeared which turned into a good thing considering that Dean, Seamus and Neville had stayed in their compartment for most of the journey, making it rather crowded. As it was, only Harry realised that the strange Ravenclaw hadn't bothered to return, though it was quickly shrugged off as they all stepped out of the train.

"Jesus, it's foggy!" exclaimed Dean as they gathered together on the platform.

The bright sunshine from earlier in the day was gone. Replacing it was a thick cloud of mist that made it almost impossible to see. Harry could only just make out his house-mates standing next to him.

"I'd hate to be a first-year in this weather," muttered Seamus pulling his cloak tighter as a chilly wind brushed past them.

"C'mon," said Ron, "let's go find the carriages before I freeze to death."

The group of them slowly inched forward further into the fog. At one point Harry thought he felt something brush past him but upon turning his head to look saw only the hazy, mist filled air. Shaking his head, he dismissed it as his imagination.

It was a relief to get into a horse-less carriage and escape the fog as well as Seamus's singing. The Irish wizard had insisted on breaking into 'Danny Boy' to ensure they all knew where he was and Harry was glad when he got into a separate carriage.

"Wonder who will be the new Defence teacher this year," said Ron as the carriage carried them up the track to Hogwarts. "Hopefully they'll be as good as Professor Lupin."

"That's if Dumbledore's managed to find anyone," said Hermione. "It's almost like a curse. I think Professor Lupin got away with it easily compared to Professor Lockhart and Professor Quirrel."

"Well as long as they don't have Voldemort sticking out of the back of their head or happen to have won _Witch Weekly's_ Most-Charming Smile Award, I'll be happy," commented Harry.

Ron laughed but Hermione wasn't impressed. "That's not funny, Harry."

Eventually the carriage stopped and the three of them clabbered out into the ever pervading mist. With a slight hesitancy in their steps they made their way towards what they hoped were the main doors of Hogwarts. It was extremely hard to make out anything in the fog.

Thankfully they made it inside without an incidence. The same could not be said for Seamus who was complaining loudly about a gash he'd received after stumbling near the entrance. Standing with him was the unsympathetic group of Ginny, Dean and Neville who had got on the earlier carriage.

"If I'd have known his complaining was worse than his singing, I don't know whether I'd have bothered to have nudged him along a bit," commented Dean quietly to Ron and Harry who laughed.

"You can always come along with me to the hospital wing if you want, Seamus," offered Harry as the group started to drift towards the Great Hall.

But Seamus shook his head. "Nah, that's alright."

"Yeah," added Dean, "Seamus here will brave on despite his severe wound." He clasped his best friend's shoulder. "I'll even let him lean on me."

"I'm not an invalid," complained Seamus as the others laughed. "I can walk on my own, you know."

"Could've fooled me," said Dean.

They were heading past the main staircase so Harry stopped. "I'll meet up with you lot later after the sorting. I've got to go see Madame Pomfrey."

Everyone said their goodbyes and Harry ignored the curious looks from Neville, Dean and Seamus. He then started to ascend the marble staircase and make his way towards the hospital wing. He hoped Madame Pomfrey wouldn't take too long.

By the time he reached the hospital wing, however, it seemed more a case of waiting for Madame Pomfrey to turn up then hurrying through the check-up itself. The hospital wing was deserted. All the beds were neatly ordered and perfectly made up. It was eerily still and his footsteps seemed to be almost deafening as he walked further into the hospital wing, wondering where the school nurse could be.

After what seemed like an age of waiting around, though in actual fact was only five minutes, Harry started to consider going back to the Great Hall. He didn't exactly relish the idea of walking in on the Sorting, however, and so decided to stay put a while longer. If Madame Pomfrey hadn't returned in another half an hour he would return to the Great Hall.

It was only a few minutes later when he heard some noises and moved towards the door to the hospital wing. The sounds were definitely coming closer and Harry began to distinguish them. There was the rhythmic clacking of heels and a low mutter of voices and, oddly enough, the squeak of wheels against the polished floor.

Peering outside the hospital wing in curiosity, Harry was startled to see a trolley coming into view. A white cloth covered the silhouette of a man lying perfectly still on the trolley. Accompanying the trolley was Madame Pomfrey whose face was drained of colour and two men, both of medium build, though the slightly taller one looked like he was going to seed with the beginnings of a double chin. Both the wizards wore robes, the slightly shorter one in light-blue and the other in a distinctive mustard colour that look rather uncared for with frayed edges hugging the floor as he walked.

Harry could pinpoint the exact moment they spotted him. They all fell silent at once and Madame Pomfrey's rhythmic stride paused for a few seconds before she hurried on towards him. The two wizards shared a look before following the nurse's lead and they continued to push the trolley towards the hospital wing.

Close up, Harry could see clearly the deathly pallor of Madame Pomfrey's cheeks. Her white cap was slightly skewed for the first time in Harry's memory and he noticed that tendrils of dark blond hair streamed down her pale face having come loose from the cap.

The usual no-nonsense attitude of the school nurse was absent. Her eyes flickered distractedly towards the trolley which she directed towards the back of the hospital wing. Her body acted as a shield between the trolley and him as she informed the two wizards that she would be there in a moment and to draw the curtains. Harry noticed that even her voice lacked the normal brisk, forthright tone; instead her voice wobbled slightly, catching at points as she tried to get herself under control.

"Blood-boiling Curse, right?" she asked.

Harry nodded vaguely, his mind on the out of view trolley.

"Have you experienced any sudden hot flushes? Dizziness? Feeling sick?" Harry shook his head at each suggestion.

"I feel fine," he assured her.

At his words she seemed to focus in on him. She gave him a pointed look but Harry said nothing – he really did feel fine.

"Well then, it seems you're suffering no after-effects. However I do want you to come back here tomorrow at your first opportunity so I can do some scans. Understood?"

Harry nodded once more, his eyes drifting past the school nurse and onto the drawn white curtains.

"Now, it's best that you get back to the Great Hall. I expect the Sorting's over by now." She started to usher him towards the door and Harry went with a slight reluctance. He wanted to ask about the trolley but knew it would be fruitless.

Just before he left completely, though, he turned around. Madame Pomfrey had just entered the curtained area and Harry had a small glimpse of what laid on that trolley beneath the white cloth: a pale white, slightly shrunken face contorted in terror with a mouth open as though to scream. It was a horrifying sight and Harry couldn't help but wonder what the person had witnessed to leave such a mark of terror. He shuddered.

The curtain slipped back into place, blocking out Harry's view. But as he walked back to the Great Hall that pale, withered face remained in his mind's eye. He shivered and picked up the pace, suddenly desperate to get back to the Great Hall and away from Hogwarts's deserted corridors.

By the time he reached the Great Hall the feast had already begun, though Harry's appetite had rather deserted him after seeing that ghastly face.

"You ought to eat more," Hermione told him, motioning to the large amount of food remaining on his plate. "You're not feeling ill, are you?" She sounded concerned and her eyes were looking at him with the same pointed expression that Madame Pomfrey had used.

"I'm fine, Hermione. Really I'm fine," he repeated at her unconvinced expression. "Just not feeling that hungry."

Harry wondered to himself whether he should mention what he'd glimpsed in the hospital wing. He decided that it would be for the best since otherwise Hermione would keep on pestering him. He leaned in closer to his best friends, glancing sideways to make sure no one was paying them any attention. "I need to talk to you about something. Stay in the common room tonight until everyone's gone, OK?"

Hermione looked like she wanted to probe him for more details but changed her mind at the last minute and nodded in reply. Ron, his mouth full with food, looked baffled and made what Harry presumed was an affirmative reply.

The rest of the feast seemed to draw on forever as Harry's mind concentrated on the meeting planned for that night. He wished that it was a Friday instead of a Thursday since he didn't relish the idea of getting up early tomorrow after what promised to be a long night. He guessed it would be at least twelve o'clock before the common room cleared out.

000

It was actually getting on for half one when the last of the stragglers wandered off to bed. Ron's eyes were starting to droop and Harry hoped he would be awake enough to understand what he was saying. Hermione, on the other hand, was hanging on to his every word with an intense look of concentration as he described the events from earlier that evening.

"I thought it was a bit weird that they were using a trolley. Couldn't they just levitate the body?" It was something that was bugging Harry because he'd never known trolleys to be used. He'd never seen patients carted around on them during his stay at St. Mungos. Everyone was just levitated.

Hermione already seemed to know the answer. "I thought that would have been obvious," she announced loftily. "They don't want to use magic on the body since it would leave a residue and could overlap or distort any magic clinging to it."

Harry had never heard about any sort of magical residue but nodded along anyway. He privately wondered how Hermione seemed to know so much. Probably read it in a book, he decided.

This thought was proved correct as Hermione continued on. "I read it in _A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry _ages ago. I thought it was rather interesting at the time since when they realised that there were magical residues they realised it could help with solving crimes and," she looked at Harry then, "finding out how people died. Whoever that person you saw was, I think it's safe to say that they're dead now."

That didn't come as much of a surprise to Harry. Ever since he'd seen the white cloth covering a body he'd known the person couldn't be alive.

There was a pause for a few moments and Harry realised that Ron had started to doze.

"We better get to bed before we also end up falling asleep down here," he told Hermione, gesturing to Ron.

Hermione agreed and together the two of them forced Ron awake. After several sleepy "Goodnights" Hermione disappeared up the girls' staircase while Harry guided a stumbling Ron up to their dormitory.

Exhausted as he was, Harry fell into Morpheus's embrace almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. His last thought was to wonder why the dead man had been taken into Hogwarts instead of St. Mungos. Probably to do with magical residues or some such rot, his brain told him as he drifted off to the background sound of Neville's snoring.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Author's notes: This is a self-confessed filler chapter (though I prefer to think of it as a transitional chapter). But the next chapter will be up by next week, in which we finally get to see Padma. Anyway, that's about it from me since I'm going home this weekend and apparently have to help clean some lego bricks. Thanks once again to those who reviewed, especially the person who pointed out the spelling mistakes. Oh, and this is the most Quidditch you're going to see since it's boring to write and even more boring to read.

Chapter Five

The next day the trio looked decidedly worse for wear and each of them couldn't seem to stop yawning as they sat eating breakfast. Hermione seemed more irritable than usual and Harry was particularly careful about what he said to his bushy haired friend.

Harry became slightly relieved when McGonagall handed them their timetables. The morning was taken up with Divination followed by History of Magic, his two easiest classes. Well, easiest in that the teachers never really paid that much attention to who was awake in their class.

Ron was looking in glee at his timetable. "Extra sleep every day," he said triumphantly.

"What are you on about?" asked Hermione snappishly, before grabbing his timetable out of his hands. She flicked through it. "You have Wednesday morning free and the first two periods of Thursday free. That's hardly every day."

"Yeah," said Ron leaning closer to her. "But, if you look more closely you see that on every other day my first period is taken up with either History or Divination – the two dossiest subjects going."

And thus began Ron and Hermione's first argument of the school year. It was something Harry wanted no part of and so shook his head and went back to eating his toast.

The argument still continued on when Angelina Johnson, a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, came to talk to him. The first thing Harry noticed was the shiny new Quidditch captain badge glistening on the black girl's school robes. He immediately offered his congratulations.

"Thanks," she grinned. "I thought I better tell you that Quidditch trials are going to be held tomorrow to replace Oliver," she told him, referring to Oliver Wood, the previous Gryffindor Keeper who had graduated last year. "I've booked the pitch for twelve and was hoping you could come along since I want the whole team to judge."

Ron had perked up at the mention of the trials and had turned away from the still ranting Hermione. "Do you have to sign up?" he asked eagerly. Ron was a Quidditch fanatic and this was the first time in the last two years that there had been an opening on the team.

"Nah," said Angelina. "Just turn up."

She then turned back to Harry. "So can you make it tomorrow? It doesn't matter so much if you can't since it's only really the Chasers that need to properly fly, but it'd be cool if you could make it."

Harry agreed at once. Quidditch was probably his favourite thing to do at Hogwarts and any chance to fly was appreciated, well except if it involved Oliver Wood's exhausting practices in the pouring rain.

"Cool," said Angelina before turning to rejoin the other sixth years sitting further down the table.

The rest of breakfast was taken up with Ron's excited ramblings about the Quidditch trials. Harry shared in his best friend's excitement but Hermione didn't seem bothered, though she did agree to come and watch when Ron asked her to.

When the time came for the end of breakfast and the start of the first lesson, everyone began to make their way out of the Great Hall. Hermione, with her Arithmancy textbooks in hand, bid them goodbye. "Hope you have fun in Divination," she said and Harry couldn't help but feel irritated at her smug tone.

The North Tower where Divination was held hadn't changed at all since last year. The circular tables were still surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little pouffes and the cloying smell of sickly perfume was ever-present. It felt at once as though there had been no summer holiday.

"Good day, my dears," said the misty voice of Professor Trelawney as she emerged from the shadows of the room. She, too, hadn't changed one iota: enormous glasses still made her eyes appear far too large for her face, chains and bangles were still draped from her thin, almost spindly body and she still peered down at Harry with the same tragic expression.

"My Inner Eye sees difficult times ahead for you... most difficult... troubles lurk ahead in the shadows. Most troubling, dear boy... most troubling..." Her voice had grown quieter as she spoke until it was but a whisper.

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who looked stonily back. Professor Trelawney swept past them and seated herself in a large winged armchair before the fire, facing the class. She then began her speech on what the year would bring.

"My dears, this term we shall delve into the movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance." Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who greatly admired Professor Trelawney, eagerly leaned in closer to hear more.

"In the dawning of spring we shall move beyond the planetary movements," she told them, her gauzy, spangled shawl slipping slightly down her arms. "We shall tread carefully into the realm of dreams where human destiny may await those able to pierce the veiled mysteries of the future that sleep holds firm."

The perfumed fire was starting to lull Harry to sleep. It was especially hard to fight the heaviness of his eyes since he really didn't care how the movements of the planets shaped his destiny or how his future might lie in dreams. It was all a bunch of nonsense.

"... the resonances of the future are unclear to me as of now. The Inner Eye does not see on command...

"But now let us turn our minds towards the future insights the planets bestow."

The rest of the lesson was filled with speculations over what planet they were born under. They had each been given a complicated circular chart and were told to fill in the positions of each of the planets at their moment of birth. It was all rather dull and Harry was glad when the lesson finally ended and they were allowed to leave the suffocating tower.

They met Hermione outside of the History of Magic classroom. "How was Divination?" she asked, a smirk gracing her lips. "Are you still peering into 'the Orb's infinite depths'?"

"Nah, I think we've about seen all the mist we need to. We're on planetary movements now. But Trelawney still thinks someone's going to do Harry in," Ron told her as he steered her towards the seats nearer the back of the room.

"That's horrible!" declared Hermione. "I don't know why you two don't just quit Divination. It's not as though you're learning anything and Trelawney's hardly a true Seer!"

Ron just shrugged and Harry remained quiet. "I'll just drop it after OWLs," Ron told her nonchalantly as Professor Binns, their ghost teacher, drifted into the room through the blackboard.

Hermione huffed but said nothing as she got out her textbook. She suddenly seemed to realise that she wasn't sitting as near to the teacher as usual. She frowned and looked suspiciously at Ron as Binns started his long, dull speech about yet another goblin uprising.

An hour and a half later and a rather more rested Ron and Harry left the History of Magic classroom along with a disapproving Hermione.

"Honestly, you really shouldn't sleep during a lesson. Especially the first lesson of term!"

"Give it a rest, Hermione," whined Ron as they slid onto the Gryffindor table for lunch. "It's not like good old Binns minds."

"But what about your History OWL. We only have two more years and then we have to sit them and we can be tested on anything from this year."

Ron, however, didn't seem to care as much about his education as Hermione obviously did. "It's only History. It's not as though I need to know about the goblin rebellion of 1358."

"1348," corrected Hermione automatically. "And it's good to know about history so we don't make the same mistakes of the past," she insisted.

Harry considered that for a moment as he finished eating his sandwich. "But we do," he said.

"What?"

"We do make the same mistakes over and over again. If we learnt from our mistakes then there would only be one goblin rebellion and we'd fix all the problems with the world. We just don't learn."

"Yes, well..." Hermione trailed off before deciding to ignore Harry's point altogether and start eating.

From the other side of Hermione, Ron gave Harry the thumbs up and they shared a grin.

After a quick lunch Harry pushed his empty plate away from him and started to stand up. "I better get going to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey wants to give me a detailed check-up," he explained noticing Hermione's look of inquiry. "I don't know how long it'll last, so I'll meet you guys outside of Potions."

Ron nodded his understanding, unable to speak with a mouthful of food, while Hermione looked at him with her brows furrowed in concern. "OK, then. We'll see you in Potions," she said.

Harry walked briskly towards the hospital wing, his mind dwelling on what he'd seen the night before. He was curious as to whether the curtains would still be drawn in the corner of the room.

But the hospital wing was changed from the previous evening and no curtains hid anything from view. It was almost as if nothing had happened last night. As if no dead body with a permanent look of terror had been carted in to be examined.

Madame Pomfrey was back to normal. Her neat white cap was back in place and no stray bits of hair escaped it. Her tone was back to being the brisk, no-nonsense sound Harry was used to as she cast a variety of spells and advised him to drink more water. It was only the strange look in her eyes as she dismissed him that told Harry she was still very much aware of the events of the previous night.

But Harry didn't have time to dwell on the mystery of the dead body since he had only five minutes to get to the dungeons. He knew from many years of past experience that Snape, the Potions professor, wouldn't hesitate to take points if he was even a minute late.

And so it was that he managed to get to the Potions classroom with less than a minute to spare. As Ron congratulated him on making it in the nick of time, Harry bent forward as he tried to get his breath back. Hogwarts had definitely made him unfit.

As soon as Snape saw Harry he was confronted with a glare filled with such burning hatred that Harry knew he hadn't forgotten the incident with Sirius last year. It seemed the loss of an Order of Merlin was still a sore spot with the head of Slytherin house.

Snape demanded total silence from the class as they were told to write down the scrawled instructions written on the blackboard. It was for Bulbadox Powder, a potion that resulted in an outbreak of boils. They wouldn't actually be brewing the potion until next Thursday when they had a double period, but they were to memorise the instructions for then so they could brew it without help. It was supposed to give them an idea of how part of the OWL Potion practical would be set out next year.

It was a tedious lesson and Harry was happy when it finally ended. He wasn't so pleased about the essay they had been set to write from homework but no one had ever called Snape a nice teacher.

Their next lesson was Care of Magical Creatures and Harry was glad to see Hagrid after missing him yesterday in the fog. He wasn't so glad to see the creatures they were to be studying. Much as he liked the giant games keeper, Harry couldn't share his enthusiasm for Blast-Ended Skrewts.

"Hope we don't have to do that every lesson," said Ron as they made their way towards the castle. All three of them had been biting their tongues to stop themselves complaining throughout the lesson out of fear of hurting Hagrid's feelings.

"At least they're small," said Harry.

"They are _now_," said Hermione in an exasperated voice, "but once Hagrid's found out what they eat, I expect they'll be six feet long." They all shared an uneasy look as they came to a stop outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Harry then realised something. "Wait a minute, who is the new Defence teacher?"

"Weren't you paying attention at the feast?" Hermione asked snootily as they followed the rest of the class into the room.

"My mind was sort of on other matters, actually," he told her in the same tone.

Ron butted in then as they sat themselves down. "But he wasn't actually present. I just remember Dumbledore mentioning his name and that was about it."

Harry was getting fed up now. He'd asked a simple question and both his friends hadn't actually bothered to answer it. "So what is the teacher's name?"

"Professor Abravan." The voice belonged to the man – obviously the professor himself – who was now standing in front of the three Gryffindors. Big, dark blue eyes were staring at them with shrewd intelligence.

The professor then turned and strode to the front of the classroom, his eyes scanning the class under big bushy brows as he took the class register. Reddish hair that had signs of greying sprung out in tufts from behind his ears. He was firmly built and wore a black cloak which showed a glimpse of a leather wand holster tied around his right arm.

All at once Harry realised that he recognised the man. He had seen him the previous night as he helped to push the trolley carrying a dead man towards the hospital wing. Hope sparked in him that this year they had a competent teacher for Defence.

This flicker of hope grew as the teacher spoke. "It seems to me that you're behind. Far behind if you be wanting to pass those OWLs of yours next year." Hermione looked especially anxious when she heard that.

"It seems to me that you've only really covered Dark creatures, according to a-" he looked down at a slip of parchment on the desk "-Professor Lupin. But there's far, far more to the Dark Arts than some mere Hinkypunk. Far more, I should imagine, than I can possibly teach you in a year. But I've always been rather a fan of a challenge." The teacher smiled slightly, as if recognising a joke only he knew.

"Now then, for starters we'll be beginning with cursed objects. It's far easier to give someone a cursed object disguised as a gift than to hunt them down and curse them yerself. Harder to track, too. Now who can name me a famous cursed object?"

Hermione's hand went straight into the air. At the same time another five or so hands went up and it was Parvati that was called upon to answer.

"The Hope Diamond," she told him.

Abravan smiled slightly. "Still bitter over that, are they?"

Parvati gave a small nod, looking slightly embarrassed.

"It seems to me that some of you not be knowing of the Hope Diamond," said Abravan as he spotted several confused expressions. "So why don't you explain, Miss Patil."

Parvati, who never really answered any questions during lessons with the only exception being Divination, looked even more embarrassed as everyone focused in on her. "Um, well... in the early seventeenth century, I think," she looked up at the teacher to see him nodding, "someone stole the Hope Diamond – which is this really blue diamond – from a statue of the goddess Sita – she's Rama's wife. Anyway, when the priests realised what had happened they placed a curse on the diamond so it would bring bad luck and misfortune onto anyone who owned it.

"Very good," said Abravan and awarded her five points. "Now any other cursed objects?"

The class was a mix of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and Ernie Macmillan was the next to be picked. "The Azwell Manuscript."

"Ah, yes, the cursed Azwell Manuscript. Can anyone be telling me what else it's known as?" Those deep blue eyes scanned the room before settling on Hermione whose hand was once again waving in the air. He gestured for her to answer.

"It's also known as the Slytherin Grimoire since it's supposed to have been written in Parseltongue." Harry noticed that many eyes turned to him as Hermione mentioned the word 'Parseltongue'.

Abravan nodded. "And does anyone know how it be cursed?"

Only Hermione had her hand up. "Well most historians believe that it was actually written by the Slytherin family and was one of the objects sold when they became bankrupt in the early 1600s. The full copy was split up into three parts and the pages were switched around. It's then said that they cursed the three parts so anyone who wasn't of Slytherin descent was plagued with madness as they endlessly tried to decipher the code. The only known part was brought by the then Duke of Azwell."

"And thus we came to have the mad dukes of Azwell," said Abravan softly. "Very good, Miss Granger. Take five points for Gryffindor.

"Now, there are several different types of curses: basic, runic and, on occasion, a mixture of both, as well as _defixiones_, which aren't being used much these days. I expect you to be learning about runic curses in your Runes class, so we're going to be focusing on basic – the most common these days."

Basic curses turned out to be spells placed on objects. They could lead to relatively harmless things like a regurgitating toilet or they were more serious consequences such as an object with a premature aging curse attached. The curses, however, could only ever be as powerful as the wizard who cast them and over time they would dissipate entirely unlike runic curses which could last for thousands of years.

"The most important thing to remember is to know what you're up against. If you take anything from this class, remember that. How can you fight something when you don't know what you're up against? For basic curses you need to be using a detection spell. It's not that hard a spell, but if you don't use it you may end up spending the rest of your life cursed. So on your head be it," he warned.

Professor Abravan then told them to collect one of several wooden blocks sitting on the shelves to the back of the room. They were warned to levitate their block to where they were sitting since each one was cursed. After levitating an entire tree only a week or so ago Harry found the action easy. Ron seemed to share the same thought and the two of them raced their wooden blocks back to their desk while Hermione made a tutting sound at their childish behaviour.

The rest of the lesson was taken up with learning the Revealing Spell.

"The trick to casting the spell is a want to know if the object be cursed," Abravan told them after Seamus's spell didn't react. Apparently one witch, a mistress of a wealthy nobleman, had always cast the Revealing Spell on every gift sent to her, but had adored her lover so much that she couldn't believe he would curse her and so the spell had failed.

"What happened to her?" asked Susan Bones.

"She withered," Abravan told them with a sad smile.

Hannah Abbott looked shocked. "But that's horrible!"

"That's love for you," replied the professor and told them to get on with the spell.

"_Aperio Arcana!_" A bolt of blue light rushed out of Harry's wand and hit the wooden block. The small block shook slightly and turned a purplish hue. The purple then rose up above the box and formed the shape of a mouth that seemed to be constantly moving - like it was speaking - but no sound was coming out.

Looking around, Harry was surprised to find that he was the first one to master the spell. Hermione was still practising the incantation and Ron was pointing his wand at the wooden block while saying the spell, but nothing was happening. He looked rather baffled by the lack of response.

"Very good." Harry hadn't realised that the professor was standing right next to him and jumped slightly in surprise. "Now what do you think this means?" he asked, gesturing at the image of the moving mouth.

"Some sort of curse affecting the mouth," he hedged. Abravan gave him a smile of encouragement to continue. "I don't know – a babbling curse of some sort?"

"Take five points for Gryffindor. It's called the Curse of Lalage and causes a person to be prattling on and on without end. You see, it's not just about knowing that the object's cursed; it's about _what_ the object's cursed with. That's the most important bit."

"But how can you tell what means what?" Harry asked curiously. "There must be hundreds of curses."

"Thousands, it seems to me," corrected the professor. "Sad fact of life that people have been cursing each other since the dawn of time. But it's a good question." He paused to consider. "I suppose through experience and, if you're really stuck, you can always be getting out a book to look it up in."

Abravan then started to meander around the classroom occasionally offering advice to those struggling with the spell. With a word here and an altered grip there the entire class was eventually able to cast the spell by the end of the lesson.

Harry was especially happy when he heard what their homework was. "Since you've all managed to be mastering the spell I want you to look up what your wooden block was cursed with. Just the curse and a brief description. No fancy essays."

The whole class looked happy with the pronouncement and even Hermione seemed glad at the short homework.

"But I thought you _liked_ homework," said Ron with a look of confusion as they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the red haired wizard. "Of course I don't _like_ homework, but that hardly means I have to hate it. I mean, while some homework is actually really interesting I like to have time to read up on other things."

"I really don't understand you, Hermione," said Ron.

They made their way up to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, which was concealed behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress. It was hard to believe that just last year the canvas had been viciously slashed.

"Password?" she asked as they approached.

"Balderdash," answered Harry and the portrait swung open to reveal a hole in the wall, which they all climbed through.

"It's also nice to know I actually have time for myself this year," said Hermione as they plonked themselves down in the squashy armchairs that littered the circular common room. "I don't think I could stand doing another year like that," she added in reference to her last year's timetable, which had been so packed she had required a Time-Turner to attend every lesson.

"I still don't understand why you didn't just take a few extra hours to do your homework."

"Well you wouldn't, would you," Hermione said huffily.

Ron looked affronted. "And what's that supposed to mean?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

Recognising the signs of the row to come, Harry pulled out the Ancient Runes textbook Bill had given to him as well as a scrape of parchment to translate on. It was always hard to tell just how long such an argument would go on for so Harry thought he might as well use his time productively. He was especially motivated after the mention of runic curses.

As it turned out, the argument lasted until dinner when, by some unspoken consensus, Ron and Hermione decided to just ignore each other. It left Harry feeling like piggy in the middle as they each tried to grab his attention. If he had to hear Ron saying "She insulted the Cannons" one more time then he thought he might just explode, especially since he didn't recall where Quidditch came into the argument. As it was he was glad when it was time for bed.

However, by the next day the argument seemed pretty much forgotten and Hermione accompanied them outside to watch the Quidditch trials with a book in hand. Without any sign of yesterday's falling out, Hermione wished Ron good luck as they left her in the spectator stands with a bunch of Gryffindors who had also come out to watch.

The day was warm with the sun peeking through white, fluffy clouds. There was barely any breeze and it was warm enough to wear a t-shirt. All in all, a perfect day for Quidditch.

"So are you two are back on speaking terms, then?" Harry asked Ron as they made their way over to where the Gryffindor Quidditch team and a bunch of hopefuls were standing.

"What? Oh, right – yeah. I realised that Hermione really doesn't understand Quidditch so I can't really blame her for not understanding the Cannons. She just doesn't know any better."

Harry grinned at Ron's words but didn't say anything. Like Hermione, he didn't understand Ron's unswerving support to the constantly defeated Chudley Cannons.

Including Ron there were eight Keeper hopefuls. Apart from his best friend he only really knew Dean Thomas from his year, though he thought he recognised a few faces. Several of them had their own brooms but for the most part the rather dubious school brooms were being used.

Leaving Ron with Dean and the other hopefuls, Harry edged his way towards where the current Quidditch team was standing. The twins were both looking at Ron in surprise before they started to make their way over to their younger brother wearing identical smirks. Meanwhile, Angelina was frowning as she wrote down something on a piece of parchment before muttering something to Alicia.

"So how was your holiday, Harry?" asked Katie as she stepped in next to him.

"Rather boring, really. But I did get to see the World Cup which was brilliant. Did you get to see it?"

Katie smiled. "I don't think my mum could have lived with herself if we hadn't gone. She's half-Irish," she explained at Harry's questioning look. "Terrible about what happened after, though. That was just..."she left it hanging as though she didn't know quite how to describe the disaster that the World Cup had become.

"But moving on to happier things – did you see Oliver there?"

Happier at the lighter subject, Harry replied enthusiastically. "Yeah, he's on the reserve for Puddlemere United. I just hope their practices are exhausting enough for him."

Katie smiled. "Considering it's Oliver we're talking about, I doubt it. I'm just hoping that Angie's not as obsessed since I've got my OWLs at the end of the year and if I don't do well I just know Mum will try and get me to quit."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," assured Harry. He would have said more only Angelina was signalling to them.

"OK, everyone, basically we're going to go through one by one with me, Alicia and Katie trying to score and you trying to save," she told the group of hopefuls. "We're going through in alphabetical order so if everyone except-" she checked her piece of parchment "-Victoria Frobisher could go wait in the stands, and we'll call you up when it's your go."

The other seven contenders left leaving a single girl behind. She looked a bit nervous and was fiddling with a strand of brown hair that had come loose from her pony tail. "It's Vicky, actually," she told them. "Only my mum calls me Victoria."

Angelina quickly noted that down. "Cool. Anyway, we're going to attempt to score five goals," she told the younger girl, gesturing to Alicia and Katie as well as herself. "And Harry and the twins are just going to be watching your performance. Is that all OK?"

Vicky nodded, tucking the loose wisp of hair behind her ear. She bent down and collected her own broom – a Cleansweep Seven – from the floor.

"Are you ready?" Angelina asked kindly.

"As I'll ever be," Vicky said and kicked up off the ground. The rest of the Quidditch team followed after her.

Harry's Firebolt soared up high and Harry was filled with the exhilaration only flying could bring. The light breeze caressed him as he flew higher and higher until he clicked that he was supposed to be watching the goal posts instead of doing his usual Seeker routine. He quickly dropped to a lower altitude.

The girl actually turned out to be rather good and managed to save four out of the five goals. She had missed the third attempt after being fooled by Alicia's double feint.

"You flew really well," congratulated Angelina when they were all back on firm ground.

"Thanks," said Vicky, still looking nervous. She once again pushed the free strand of hair behind her ear.

"Would you have any problems attending practices?"

"Well I'm a part of the Charms Club and I'm sort of a member of the Gobstones Society. I'm not that great at Gobstones so I don't mind missing it but I'd choose Charms Club over Quidditch practice if they ever overlapped."

Angelina was nodding to all this as she wrote it down. She then told Vicky that she could go if she wanted since it would probably take some time going through all the candidates.

The next contender was a rather miserable looking second year called Geoffrey Hooper. He was stocky with rounded shoulders and a mop of dirty blond hair. His whiny voice grated on everyone as he insisted that he needed to do a warm up first and then he started to whinge that it wasn't his fault he missed the fourth Quaffle throw that flew through the goal post to his left. Apparently he wasn't left handed and so couldn't possibly save the goal.

The next in line was the only other girl applying for the position. When Angelina went to call the girl over, however, it turned out she'd done a runner.

Katie groaned as the next hopeful approached the team with a slight swagger in his step and a Nimbus Two Thousand and One in hand. "If he gets on the team then I'm quitting," muttered Katie to Harry.

The large, wiry-haired fifth year didn't seem aware of the animosity Katie held against him as he greeted her with a smile.

"Cormac," greeted Katie in turn with a thin smile pasted on her face.

But Cormac seemed the best flyer so far and managed to save every goal sent his way. Angelina looked pleased with his performance while Katie looked on stonily.

The next hopeful was a seventh year called Jason Robins. He was rather tall with a good, solid build and an easy smile. "Figured since this is my last year I might as well have a go," he told them.

He, too, saved every goal, though Harry did suspect that Katie made her two shots easier to catch.

After that came Jack Slopper, a third year who seemed a bit shaky on the broom and only managed to save one goal.

Dean was the next up and, while quite good at handling the broom, didn't seem Keeper material. He seemed to realise this as well since once he had dismounted he said aloud that he didn't think he was suited to the position.

Last up was Ron who looked paler than usual as he made his way towards the group. Harry gave him a smile of encouragement but Ron seemed too nervous to take any notice as he mounted a rather old school broom that looked like it was on its last legs.

It seemed to go quite well at first and he managed to save the first two goals. But when he missed the third throw all the confidence seemed to drain out of Ron and any flying ability fled with it. The last two shots past him by with such ease that it was almost painful to watch.

As soon as they landed Ron was already walking off, ignoring Harry's shouts. Hermione came up towards him and was casually shaken off as Ron left the Quidditch pitch entirely.

"Well, didn't that go well," George commented dryly.

Angelina ignored the comment as she detailed what she thought about each of the choices. "At the end of the day it comes down to McLaggen or Robins. What do you guys think?"

"Robins," said Katie straight away. "I do not want to have to fly with McLaggen."

"I'd say Robins, too. I don't want to sound harsh, but there's something about McLaggen that... I don't know..." Alicia shrugged, unable to describe exactly what put her off McLaggen. "I just think I'd get on better with Robins, even if he is only here for one more year."

The twins didn't seem that bothered but, when pressed, picked Robins.

"What about you, Harry?"

"Robins," he answered distractedly, his thoughts still on Ron.

"Right then, Robins it is. I'll tell everyone when we get back to the common room. Oh, and before I forget, next practice is next Friday at five."

With that said she dismissed them all. Angelina, Alicia and the twins all began making their way back towards the castle, leaving Harry and Katie on the pitch.

"He's really not going to be happy," commented Katie as she picked up the school brooms still lying on the grass.

Harry started to help her. "No, he's not," agreed Harry, thinking about Ron's disastrous performance. "And he seemed to be doing alright until the third shot and then he just fell to pieces."

"What?"

"It's like as soon as he missed the shot he just lost all his confidence," continued Harry.

Katie twigged on. "You're talking about Ron, aren't you?"

"Yeah, why... Oh! You were talking about McLaggen, weren't you?"

Katie nodded. "But I'm sure both of them will get over it. It's only Quidditch, after all."

"Blasphemy, Katie!" Harry exclaimed in mock horror. "Whatever would Oliver say if he could hear you now?"

They met each other's eyes and started to laugh.

"Come on, you can help me put away these broomsticks," said Katie and they made their way towards the storage cupboard.

"And Harry," said Katie as they replaced all the school brooms. "Ron will get over it. Just give it some time."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I didn't even think up Merples which I sort of stole from my brother's friend.

Author's Note: Thank you to those who reviewed. I have no idea when the next chapter will be posted since I haven't even started it yet, however it is bank holiday Monday so hopefully I'll get in written up by next week; no promises, though. Now I have to go see some dead people.

Chapter Six

True to Katie's words, Ron did eventually get over his Quidditch upset. It took a week or so, but soon Ron was back to his normal self, even if he did look pained every time Harry happened to mention Quidditch practices.

Cormac McLaggen hadn't taken the news of his rejection well. Unlike Ron, he seemed unable to move past it and glared at Harry whenever he saw him. Harry personally thought this was unwarranted considering that it hadn't just been him who had picked Robins instead.

But despite all the unpleasantness that had arisen from the Quidditch trials, one good thing had come from it all – Jason Robins. The easy-going seventh year had seamlessly slotted into the team without any difficulties and everything looked set for their first match against Slytherin.

What with the copious amount of work filling up his days and Quidditch practice and constant homework taking up his evenings, Harry was a bit surprised when he realised that it was nearly Halloween. It hadn't seemed that long ago that he'd been stuck in St. Mungos longing to return to Hogwarts.

But the last two months hadn't been without their highlights. Standing out the most was the news that Ministry blunders had led to the Triwizard Tournament being hosted at Durmstrang next year instead of at Hogwarts where it had originally been planned for that year.

"That must be what Charlie was on about when he kept saying how he wished he was back at Hogwarts this year!" Ron deduced as Hermione finished reading aloud Rita Skeeter's scathing diatribe against the Ministry with particular emphasis on the weak leadership of Cornelius Fudge.

"And why we had to bring dress robes," added Hermione. "According to this," she said gesturing to the Daily Prophet, "the plans were only changed at the very end of summer – after our school lists were sent out." Ron looked rather pleased at the news that he would avoid having to wear his set of dress robes.

Harry was rather torn on the subject of the Minister of Magic. While Fudge had been rather kind to him just before his third year, treating him much like a favoured nephew, he had also outright dismissed the story of Sirius's innocence. Adding that onto the bungled security at the Quidditch World Cup, Harry felt that maybe someone new in power might be a good thing. It certainly seemed that that was the way things were heading.

With news about the Triwizard Tournament dominating the front page it was only sheer luck that Harry had stumbled onto an article he would usually overlook when Hermione offered him her copy of the Daily Prophet to peruse. The glimpse of the word Hogsmeade (which he originally mistook for Hogwarts) was the only thing that had stopped him from turning the page.

He had read the article with growing interest:

_Investigation into Mysterious Death of Hogsmeade Train Conductor Continues_

_By Valerie Sharpe_

_Investigators looking into the death of Ernest Thompson (53) remain baffled even three weeks after fellow train conductor Duncan MacTavish (49) discovered the body tied to the control panel of the Hogwarts Express, the locomotive used to convey students from London to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The body was found shortly after the steam engine train pulled into Hogsmeade station for the start of the new school year on September 1__st__ of this year._

_The events surrounding the death remain shrouded in mystery. The train driver's compartment showed no signs of magical tampering and there were no signs of a struggle. Despite this, investigators believe that foul play was involved and are treating it as a murder inquiry._

_The body itself revealed no abnormal magical residue and no sign of an entry wound. Investigators have yet to release the cause of death. However, the Auror leading the case, Richard Morton, reassures the public that the tragedy occurred after the students had alighted from the train. _

Harry had read that sentence with a furrowed brow. The timescale that the article was suggesting didn't fit with what Harry had seen. The body would have had to arrive at the same time as the students for Harry to have seen its delivery to the hospital wing, which meant that Thompson would have been dead by the time the Hogwarts Express had arrived. Which meant...

"Whoever killed that man was on the train with us."

It was the first outing to Hogsmeade and Harry, Ron and Hermione were currently huddled together in a corner of the Three Broomsticks. With a rowdy crowd of students and locals filling up the pub it was easy for the three of them to talk without being overheard.

It was the first time Harry had voiced the suspicion that had been floating in his head for the last several weeks. Much like the secrecy surrounding the Philosopher Stone, the mystery behind the man's death gnawed away at him.

"But why would the Daily Prophet lie?" Ron couldn't seem to get his head around that.

"Because it would only lead to panic and bad press," Harry explained, having already thought about it.

Hermione was nodding along with what Harry was saying. "The Ministry is still being criticised about the lack of security at the World Cup, not to mention the loss of the Triwizard Tournament," expounded Hermione. "They'd be foolish to let people know that a murderer was onboard the Hogwarts Express with a bunch of students. The Aurors are facing an independent inquiry as it is."

"But why should it bother us?" asked Ron. "It's not as though we knew him or anything."

"Ron, he died while we were on that train. For all we know, the person who murdered him is at Hogwarts at this very moment."

Hermione was looking at him strangely. "You don't think Thompson was the main target, do you?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted with a shrug. "But it makes no sense. Why kill a mere train driver? The Aurors can't find any motive. And it's not as though it was a normal, run-of-the-mill death."

Neither Hermione nor Ron looked impressed.

"It's just... call it a gut feeling, OK. Something's not right with this. You didn't see his face..."

Hermione sighed deeply. "Well what do you think we ought to do about it, then?" she asked pointedly.

"I want to look at the train station. That's where it all began."

Hermione still didn't seem all together pleased by the idea, but she nodded along anyway. Ron appeared to be rather intrigued by Harry's suspicions.

"It wouldn't be Hogwarts if there wasn't something strange going on," he commented with a grin as they finished off their Butterbeers and left the bustling pub.

They decided to leave the station till last since that's where the horseless carriages left from. Until then they whiled away their time exploring Hogsmeade properly. Harry hadn't exactly had the chance to see everything last year when he'd snuck into the village through a secret passageway stretching from Hogwarts down to Honeydukes sweet shop. He was therefore keen to explore the only 'non-Muggle settlement in Britain' as Hermione put it.

Their first stop had been Zonko's Joke Shop. The shop was an explosion of colour filled to the brim with joke toys and novelty knick-knacks. There were stacks of Dungbombs and wooden barrels that were almost overflowing with Hiccup Sweets and Sneezing Toffees.

Eventually the crowds got too much for them as more people tried to fit into the already bustling shop. They just about managed to squeeze their way through the hoards to the exit.

They started wandering up the cobblestone High Street to Honeydukes only to decide against entering when they realised how packed it was.

Hermione wanted to buy a new quill so they made a quick stopover at Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. Inside there were colourful arrays of quills from fancy ones made from peacock feathers to the plain black quills made with the feathers of a raven.

While Hermione deliberated on what quill to buy, Harry and Ron moseyed around the rest of the store. There were shelves displaying an assortment of different coloured parchment and odd-shaped envelopes. On part of one wall there was a collection of calendars for the both 1994 and 1995. They each had a different theme: one had different English Quidditch teams for every month of the year while another was filled with places of interest in the magical world. When Ron spotted a calendar for next year with different magical creatures for each month, Harry picked it up thinking that Hagrid might like it for a Christmas present in a few months time.

After Hermione finally decided on a black and gold pheasant feather quill they left the shop and strolled down to the end of the High Street to where Dervish and Banges was situated. Harry had never been in the magical equipment shop before.

It was probably the only shop in Hogsmeade that wasn't overflowing with students. They were only a few third year boys laughing over a phallic shaped device.

"How immature," Hermione commented snootily as they passed the group.

Ron and Harry both shared a grin as they followed the bushy-haired witch further into the store.

The whole shop had a distinct feeling of neglect from the higgledy-piggledy set up to the layer of dust that had settled on the shelves. A stale, musty air permeated the shop, growing stronger as they moved further from the door.

On the walls hung an assortment of clocks whose ticking filled the shop. Mirrors of all shapes and sizes lined the walls, enclosed in frames. Several of the mirrors bid them hello as they ventured deeper into the store. An elaborately woven rug complete with golden tassels draped one section of the wall, which twitched as they passed. On another section of wall was a framed collection of keys in different designs that kept altering in size.

Along the shelves were dust covered objects. A selection of glass crystal balls detailing the solar system, lunascopes to determine the phase of the moon's cycle, enough cameras to make Colin Creevey wet himself in joy, a tightly wedged in gramophone, and several things Harry didn't recognise at all.

He was surveying a collection of Sneakoscopes when he jumped at the gruff sound of a man's voice.

"Shut that quick!" A thin, elderly man with thinning, grey hair and a glass monocle in one eye hobbled towards where Hermione stood. In her hand was a music box with the lid up. Only the first few notes escaped before, with a startled look, she closed it.

The old man was shaking his head at the Gryffindor witch, his long, thin face pulled into a frown. "And just what did you think you were doing?" he asked of Hermione, whose face was starting to turn bright red.

"I'm really sorry," she apologised. "I didn't realise I wasn't supposed to open it," she explained hurriedly.

The man let out a frustrated sigh. "Bloody students," he muttered to himself.

"Couldn't you see that it's a sleep-easy music box, you silly girl?" he asked Hermione before shaking his head once again. "Oh, never mind," he dismissed as Hermione fumbled for an answer.

He then seemed to notice Harry and Ron. "Oh, there's more of you, is there. Well, what are you looking for, then?" He looked at them expectantly.

"Er – we were just looking around," said Harry quickly.

The man harrumphed at that. "'Course you were – you students never buy anything. You only ever look and pick things up that you're not supposed to." He glared pointedly at the still flushing Hermione.

"I suppose I better give you the grand tour, then. Banges is always telling me I ought to be more _accommodating_ to prospective customers." This was said with great distain that left the three Gryffindors in no doubt as to how the crotchety old man felt about the advice.

The three students said nothing as the man led them around the shop, pointing out different knick-knacks and their purposes. Despite his cantankerous attitude, the man clearly knew his stuff.

"That there is a one of a kind," he informed them, pointing to a small, square-shaped mirror hanging on one of the walls. "An expandable mirror," he told them. "Takes any shape you want it to and stretches any distance without any sort of distortion." He picked it off the wall and pulled on either end of it. At once the mirror began to grow large, stretching itself in whatever way it was directed.

Hermione peered at the mirror. "But can't you just enlarge any mirror with an engorging charm?"

"Don't they teach you anything at that school of yours? Haven't you ever been taught the exceptions to Plath's Principles of Engorgement?" He shook his head in exasperation. "Suffice to say, if you were to enlarge any other mirror then it would become distorted. Thus, as I said before, it's one of a kind."

"It's an abomination!" declared a lofty, female voice that originated from a nearby mirror.

The irritable old man grunted. "Shut your trap or I'll see to it that you end up in shards," he told the mirror nastily.

"They don't like it since it hasn't got a personality. Good thing, in my opinion, but Banges has always been a fan of the talking mirrors. Merlin knows why, since he ain't pretty to look at."

"Does that mean that you're Dervish?" asked Hermione.

The man sneered. "So there is a brain in there somewhere. I was beginning to lose all hope."

Hermione looked outraged at the slight to her intelligence and made a small huffing sound as she folded her arms.

"So, will you be buying anything or are you just another bunch of miscreants who've wasted my time?"

The three Gryffindors looked at each other. None of them said anything.

Dervish grunted. "Just as I thought – none of you had any intention of buying anything. Just like the rest of those bloody students.

"Out with you, then!" He started ushering them to the door. "If you can't be arsed to buy something then I can't be arsed to keep you in my shop. Out you go, now!" He opened the door and forced them out. "And don't return until you're willing to buy something." That said, he shut the door on their shocked faces.

"Well I never," huffed Hermione.

Ron grinned at her. "You're just annoyed that he didn't recognise your brilliance."

Seeing Hermione's affronted expression, Harry quickly stepped in to prevent an argument. "Come on, Honeydukes should have emptied a bit by now," he said.

True to Harry's prediction, the sweet shop was less crowded this time and there was room to have a proper look around at all the scrumptious sweets available.

"I think my parents would have a fit if they could see this," said Hermione, whose parents were both dentists. "Especially these," she continued, picking up a long strand of the splintery Toothflossing Stringmints.

When they walked out the of the confectionary store twenty minutes later they each carried a paper bag filled with an assortment of sweets. Hermione looked slightly guilty for buying a block of Honeydukes-own chocolate.

"How 'bout we go and visit the Shrieking Shack," suggested Harry to Ron and Hermione as he nibbled at the end of a blue Every-Flavour Bean.

They both agreed and so they turned off the main High Street and climbed the slope leading to the supposedly most haunted dwelling in Britain. But the three of them knew the true story behind the howls and shrieks that had been heard from the Shack over a decade before. There had never been a group of rowdy ghosts; instead the sounds had emanated from a werewolf.

Despite knowing the real story and actually having ventured inside the dilapidated building, it still looked creepy from the outside. The windows had been boarded up and the overgrown garden at the front of the house looked distinctly uncared for. Even a stray grey dog was standing well away from the place.

It was a bit strange looking at it after all the secrets that had been revealed within the building at the end of last year. It was here where he learned the truth over his parents' deaths, where he learnt of his godfather's innocence and where he had foolishly spared the life of the traitorous Peter Pettigrew.

He uneasily thought back to his Divination exam last year and the strange, harsh voice of Professor Trelawney's prediction. _The servant will break free and set out to rejoin his master..._ And that's what Pettigrew was doing now – seeking Voldemort. Harry shivered involuntary at the thought.

"Look, there's that weird girl, again," said Ron, spotting the lone, pale figure of Luna Lovegood coming up the hill towards the Shrieking Shack. Her straggly, dirty blond hair was loose and fell down to her waist. She was wearing only a short-sleeved polka-dot top despite the chilly weather and, as she drew closer, Harry noticed that her necklace was made of Butterbeer corks.

Her dazed expression gave Harry the feeling that she was off in her own world. Just as she passed them, though, she smiled dreamily and bid them good day.

"I'm searching for a Merple," she told them. "Daddy says there might be a colony of them here so I thought I better look. You haven't seen any, have you?" she asked, her head tilting slightly and her eyes protruding as she looked at them.

Hermione raised her eyes heavenwards, but didn't say anything. Ron looked slightly wary.

"Sorry, Luna," said Harry, feeling some pity for the odd Ravenclaw, "but I don't even know what they look like."

Luna looked a bit disheartened to hear that but her enthusiasm soon overcame that. "They're purple. Well, more a faded purple, really. They've inbred so much that their colour has started to fade," she told him quietly, as though this was some great secret. "Their king is the only real purple Merple left. So have you seen any?"

Harry shook his head. Next to him Hermione looked like she wanted to say something but was resisting the impulse.

Luna's shoulders shrank marginally. "Oh, well. I'll just have to keep looking. They're mainly found in the white cliffs of Dover, but I had hoped..."

Harry didn't know what to say to that so he kept smiling slightly.

Luna seemed more fixed on finding a Merple, however, and started to skip away. Harry did think he heard her say something like "Purple Merple likes to slurple", but he couldn't be sure.

"That girl is a nutcase," announced Ron once Luna had skipped out of earshot. "Absolutely bonkers!"

Not wanting to expound on the eccentricities of Luna Lovegood, Harry told them that they should probably get going to the train station. It was getting on for four o'clock and dinner was served at five.

Hogsmeade station was actually located quite a distance from the village itself. Being on the far-side of the lake, it marked the boundary between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. On the weekend trips down to the village horseless carriages would convey students from the main entrance down to the train station and back again.

A chilly wind had picked up by the time they reached the station and dark storm clouds had started to loom up above. With the look of rain on the horizon many students had decided to head back to the castle. There was a bit of a queue for the horseless carriages with a group of fourth year Ravenclaws climbing into the carriage that had just drawn up.

Bypassing the queue entirely, the three Gryffindors made their way onto the tiny platform. It was empty except for a rather fat, orange tabby cat that was on the prowl.

They strolled along the platform looking to see if it had changed in any noticeable form since the previous school year since it had been far too foggy to make anything out at the beginning of term. The only thing of note was a collection of flowers and wreaths with notes tied on.

Harry bent down to read them: _We will always miss you, Ernest, love Cathy and Mark; I'll always remember you; I wish you hadn't had to go, Granddad, but Mummy says you're in a better place, love Emma. _The last was written in wobbly script and on the back was a hand drawn picture of what Harry guessed was supposed to be a little girl and her grandfather.

"Harry, there's not anything here," Hermione eventually declared a few minutes later. "I'm not even sure what we're supposed to be looking for!"

"Yeah, you're right," he conceded, standing up from the memorial. "I just thought... I don't know... it was so misty last time and..." he trailed off, unsure what exactly he'd been hoping to find.

"Should we get going, then?" asked Ron, checking his watch. "It's just gone half past and it's starting to spit."

They all agreed and went back into the shelter of the station building where the queue had shortened by quite a bit. It seemed that most people had already gone back.

They were just about to join the queue when in the corner of his eye Harry noticed a rather distinctive mustard colour. Turning around to get a closer look, he recognised the fraying robes that dragged across the floor as the man wearing it walked out of a staff only area.

Harry nudged Hermione. "That's the other man who was pushing the trolley," he told her. "I think he may be the one who found the body – oh, what was his name..." he tapped his index finger against his temple as he tried to think. "Duncan! That was it – Duncan MacTavish!"

"Well," said Hermione, "there's only one way to make sure." She then walked directly over to the man Harry had pointed out. Ron and Harry looked at each other before following along in her wake.

In her forthright manner, Hermione addressed the man. "Excuse me?" she said politely.

The man turned around. He was slightly thinner than Harry remembered, his face having taken on a rather gaunt look in the last two months that removed any hints of a second chin. There were also a few strands of grey hair in what had previously been a mass of light brown. Dark shadows clung to the area under his eyes.

"Can I help you, lassie?" he asked with a slight Scottish accent. He looked slightly surprised at being spoken to.

"Are you Duncan MacTavish?"

The man's ruddy face showed even greater surprise as his prominent brows drew together slightly. "Aye, that'd be me."

Duncan then seemed to realise that the girl in front of him was accompanied by two others. His eyes bulged slightly out of their sockets when he noticed Harry. "So it was you!" he cried. "I was telling the wife I'd seen Harry Potter, but she was having none of it. I said 'Elsie, I'm sure it was him – he had the scar and everything', but she wouldn't believe me, the daft cow. She said that all that business with Ernest must have addled me brains"

"Er, actually, that's sort of why we're here," Harry said quickly before the man could say anything more.

The Scotsman frowned at that, his eyes taking on a wary gleam. "You kids don't want to be thinking about that. Nasty bit of business." He was shaking his head while his eyes darted around the station.

"We would just like to know how he died," said Harry. "That's all we want to know."

The man grew a bit harsher, then. "And I'm telling you to leave well alone. Nothing good can come from it."

"But we just-" began Ron only to be cut off with a resounding "No".

"Now if you don't mind, I have a job to do," he said firmly and strode off, his robes dragging along the dusty floor.

"Well, wasn't that helpful," commented Ron sarcastically as they made their way to join the dwindling queue for the carriages. The last carriage left at quarter to five and it was now twenty to.

"Didn't you notice how afraid he was?" questioned Hermione, leaning in so only the two wizards could hear.

"Yeah, I did," affirmed Harry. "His eyes kept looking around to see if anyone was listening."

"Someone or something's got him worried about talking about the death."

Ron grinned lopsidedly. "Makes you wish for the times we pumped Hagrid for information."

"Ron, you're brilliant!" Hermione was grinning widely now.

"I am?"

"Hagrid's always coming down to Hogsmeade; he'll know what's going on. I can't believe I didn't think of that earlier. We'll just go down after dinner and see him."

Hermione looked as though she was going to say more when they were interrupted by an out of breath Padma Patil, her blue and bronze scarf designating her as the Ravenclaw Patil twin. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion and she was panting in huge gasps while clasping one of her sides.

"Are you OK?" Harry asked in concern as the Indian girl struggled to catch her breath back.

She nodded. "Just about," she said breathlessly, her upper body titled forward as she took in huge gulps of air. "Just ran all the way from the Three Broomsticks," she explained between breaths.

She looked up at them. "You don't mind sharing a carriage, do you? It's just I don't fancy walking back in this weather," she said, gesturing to a nearby window which showed the downpour that had begun.

"Of course we don't mind," assured Hermione.

It was only then that Harry realised they were the only ones left at the train station. Luckily, there was one more horseless carriage coming down the road to pick them up. Harry didn't fancy the prospect of walking back in the rain anymore than Padma did.

"So how come you were so late in getting back?" asked Hermione curiously once they were all settled in the well-sprung carriage.

"I was an idiot and left my bag at the Three Broomsticks," the pretty Ravenclaw witch explained. "I didn't realise until we were half way to the station so I had to quickly walk back. Thankfully, someone had handed it into Madame Rosmerta, but I then realised that I'd have to run if I wanted to get a lift back to school, thus the whole out of breathness thing. Thanks again for letting me join you."

"No problem," said Harry, who was sitting opposite her.

"So what did you three do in Hogsmeade?"

Hermione, who obviously seemed to know the Ravenclaw better than either Harry or Ron, was the one who answered. "We just wandered around a bit since it was so crowded. I swear it wasn't this busy last year."

"Gladrags was so bad that they started barring people from entering. Not that surprising, though, when you consider that the Weird Sisters are coming to play on Monday after the feast."

"What?" exclaimed Ron. None of the three Gryffindors had heard this news and were understandably shocked – the Weird Sisters were probably the most popular band in the wizarding world.

"Didn't you hear?" asked Padma, her almond shaped eyes flickering between the three Gryffindors who were all shaking their heads at her. "The rumour is that Professor Dumbledore booked them for the Triwizard Tournament and couldn't cancel so just moved them to Halloween."

"Like a ball?" asked Hermione. At those words Ron's faced drained of colour and Harry felt a sinking sensation in his stomach.

But Padma's next words allayed Harry's fears somewhat. "Not really. They're just going to remove the house tables and let the Weird Sisters play. That's what the Head Girl told me, anyway."

"Looks like you'll get a chance to wear your dress robes, after all, Ron." Harry grinned at his best friend.

Ron wasn't amused. "Shut up, Harry," he moaned.

Padma looked curiously at them. "Most people I know are going in their dress robes, so you won't be alone. That's why Gladrags was so full."

"But didn't you already have some dress robes?" Hermione questioned, remembering that they had been a requirement for the year.

"Yes, I do. I only really came down to Hogsmeade to get some Sugar Quills." She grinned, "I like to think they motivate me to do some work. It doesn't really work," she admitted quickly. "I just like to pretend it does. The real reason is that I'm an addict." She smiled sheepishly and Harry found himself smiling back.

They pulled into Hogwarts a few minutes later. The rain was coming down in cold torrents and just making the quick dash from the carriage to the shelter of the castle left the four students' outer garments soaked.

Padma, after checking that her delicate Sugar Quills had survived the rush inside intact, blew out a sigh of relief before fumbling around in her bag to find her wand. "Aha!" she cried in triumph as she pulled out her willow wand. She pointed it at her sodden coat. "_Aresco!_" she said with a flourish. The coat then seemed to wring itself dry, leaving a small puddle of water on the floor that she quickly vanished.

Not to be outdone, Hermione repeated the same process only she evaporated the water instead of vanishing it. Harry could see Padma hiding a grin as she watched Hermione go through the more elaborate process.

The Ravenclaw witch then turned to face Harry. "Um, I don't want to sound patronising or anything, but do you know the Drying Charm?" she asked him.

"Sorry; must have missed that lesson," Harry answered with no embarrassment. After three years of being friends with Hermione, one had to get used to being confronted with their ignorance at every turn.

Unlike Hermione, who would have huffed and quickly cast the charm herself, Padma grinned. "Charms Club, actually," she told him. "It's really easy. The incantation's 'aresco', though you've probably gathered that by now, and you just point the wand at yourself and making a rather dramatic sweep with your wand, like so." She demonstrated. "Now you try it."

Harry did so, highly conscious that the attractive Ravenclaw witch was watching his every movement. He was relieved when it worked and his coat became dry. He quickly vanished the water before Filch could appear out of nowhere to put him in detention.

"Thanks," he said in appreciation.

"You're welcome." They shared a smile.

"C'mon, Harry," said Ron, interrupting the moment. "Dinner will have been served by now."

"Alright, alright," Harry replied and allowed himself to be dragged into the Great Hall where Padma slipped off to the Ravenclaw table with yet another thank you for letting her join them on the journey back. The Gryffindor trio walked along to the table at the far end of the hall.

"She seemed nice," commented Harry as the three of them sat down for dinner.

"She is," said Hermione, depositing a heap of spaghetti on her plate. "She sits on the table behind me in Ancient Runes."

Up above them the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling showed the splatter of raindrops pounding down of the centuries-old castle while they ate. By the end of the meal, however, it seemed like the rain had eased off quite a bit.

On the teachers' table there were some empty spaces. Dumbledore was absent, as was Abravan and Hagrid. Trelawney, as usual, had not been advised to attend by her Inner Eye.

"Do you think Hagrid will be in his hut?" asked Ron as they got up from the Gryffindor table.

Harry shrugged. "Probably," he muttered. "How 'bout we drop off our bags and go and see if he's in?"

They all agreed and ten minutes later they started to make their way across the grounds to Hagrid's cabin. The large downpour of rain had left the ground saturated and as their feet tread through the mud, their footsteps made an unpleasant squelching sound.

Just after they left the warmth of the castle, Harry spotted the outline of a person dawdling listlessly towards the main entrance. As the figure came closer, he recognised the form of Luna Lovegood. She looked soaked to the bone with her polka-dot top clinging to her like a second skin. The strange Ravenclaw third year didn't seem to be aware of her drowned rat appearance as she meandered, unfazed, towards Hogwarts.

Harry eyed her bedraggled form with confusion before deciding that he wouldn't ever understand the thought pattern behind Luna's actions. Shaking his head, he caught up with Ron and Hermione who had walked on ahead.

It turned out that Hagrid was in and he was very pleased to see them. It made Harry feel a bit guilty that they hadn't come down to see him outside of their Care of Magical Creatures lessons. It made him feel even more guilty that the main reason for their visit was to obtain information. He didn't, however, feel bad enough to stop going through with the plan.

After nearly an hour of general discussion and a good deal of reassuring that they really did find the Skrewts interesting, Harry brought up the subject of the recent death in Hogsmeade.

"Hagrid," he began when there was a lull in the conversation, "do you know if someone died recently? It's just we saw some flowers laid out in the train station when we were coming back from Hogsmeade."

"Eh?" Realisation then dawned on Hagrid's face. "Oh, yeh talkin' abou' Ernest. He died two months back. Bit o' a myst'ry, ter tell yeh the truth."

Harry painted a curious look of inquiry on his face. "Mystery? Why is it a mystery?" Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione rolling her eyes.

"Funny business, Harry. Nobody's sure what killed him, yeh see. Aurors don' know." Hagrid was shaking his head as he added another log to the open fire. "Not that it ought to concern yeh, 'course."

"But why shouldn't it concern us?" asked Ron.

"We heard someone at the station say he died on the Hogwarts Express, so we thought that maybe he died when we were onboard," explained Hermione.

"Nuthin' to worry abou'," assured Hagrid, waving off their concerns. "Professor Abravan was onboard the whole time an' he said he didn' see anythin' fishy. He's the one who helped ter find the body, yeh see, along with Duncan – another train driver. An' he knows his stuff, does Abravan."

The topic was dropped after that and a small while later the three Gryffindors departed from Hagrid with the gift of several rock cakes a piece. It was nearly pitch black as they walked back to the castle, despite only being half eight.

"Well, that was informative," said Hermione as they trudged through the still wet grass.

Harry looked pensive. He couldn't help but remember his first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. More importantly, he couldn't help but remember Abravan's mention of the mistress who withered from a cursed gift and how well that aligned with the slightly shrunken face of the corpse he had seen two months previous.

He said nothing to his two friends, though. He didn't even know if a cursed object left a magical residue. It seemed a trip to the library was in order.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: _habeo nihil_

Author's Note: First off, I do not in any shape or form condone the use of a ball scene in Harry Potter fanfiction. Apart from that, thanks to all those who reviewed and to the RC for helping me out with a certain scene. Oh, and to the person who mentioned the Cambridge Latin Course, the answer's yes. _Caecilius est in horto_...

Chapter Seven

By the time the weekend had finished the unthinkable had occurred. Excited whispers had grown into outright squeals of anticipation. The words 'Halloween Ball' were being bandied around with abandon and every time Harry heard it his stomach began to plummet.

He wasn't the only one, though. It seemed half the population of Hogwarts – the male half, that is – shared his opinion on the matter if the glum, sullen looks and depressed mutterings were anything to go by.

Ron seemed to be affected worst of all. With Padma Patil's casual mention of dress robes plaguing the youngest male Weasley, he had taken to hiding away from the irritating talk of hair styles and jewellery in his dormitory. It appeared that he couldn't bear to hear even the mere mention of dress robes.

Not that Harry could blame him. If he had to wear the maroon velvet dress with lacy frills then he thought that he, too, might barricade himself up and hide away from the world. He was greatly relieved when, with not a little trepidation, he dug out the package containing his own dress robes to find that they looked the same as his school robes only in bottle green.

All his Monday lessons seemed to pass in a blur as he drifted from classroom to classroom surrounded by animated talk focused entirely on the 'ball'. Abravan had been so frustrated by the constant talk that he had released them early from their last lesson, something Harry couldn't help feeling slightly suspicious about.

He hadn't actually visited the library to check out about magical residues as yet. Sunday had instead been spent catching up on all the homework Ron and him had left to the weekend.

It was now six o'clock and the common room was almost completely devoid of life. Hermione had disappeared nearly two hours ago leaving Ron and Harry sitting around finishing off their Divination homework due in tomorrow. Trelawney had taken to setting them a chart to fill in with weekly predictions of what the planets forecasted for their own lives.

By this time in the year, Ron and Harry had already fallen back into the good old Divination standby of making everything up. Their grids were filled with tragic prophecies that would send even the most optimistic person in the world into a state of depression were such predictions true.

Harry was half-way through the doom that awaited him next Sunday. "Can you think of anything else I can put down?" he asked Ron, leaning over to see what his friend had written. He had run out of the dire predictions thought up over the summer.

"Hey, you've cheated! You've not written anything for Saturday." Harry didn't see the irony in telling his best friend that he was cheating on something that they were just making up off the tops of their heads.

"Oi, think of your own ideas," complained Ron, batting him away. "And there's a very good reason why I'm not doing anything on Saturday. I shall have been transfigured into a penguin by accident and I won't be turned back till Sunday after suffering from heat stroke since I was magically transported to Southend pier." He looked rather pleased with himself.

Harry rolled his eyes. He didn't know if even Trelawney would buy that level of absurdity.

"Ah, screw it; I'll just say I'll see the Grim. She went on about it enough last year." He quickly scribbled down the idea. He then breathed out a sigh of relief, that having been the last thing he needed to make up.

"Do you think we ought to go up?" asked Harry, glancing round at the empty common room.

For the first time in the last few days Ron seemed rather reluctant to head up to the dormitories. It was probably because he knew what awaited him there.

The other fourth year Gryffindor boys were already present but only Neville had changed into his set of dress robes. Dean and Seamus were passing the time playing Exploding Snap.

The feast started at seven o'clock so they only started to get changed at quarter past six. They all became very self-conscious as their eyes kept darting around to see what the others thought.

Ron looked glum as he surveyed himself in the mirror. There was no escaping the fact that it looked like he was wearing a dress. Under his breath he kept muttering "I can't go out looking like this" to himself.

"You know, when you mentioned going drag at the beginning of term, I never actually thought you'd go through with it." Fred had poked his head round the door and was staring at Ron with a worried expression.

"Shut up," said Ron glumly. He looked miserable as he tried to rearrange the lacy cuffs.

Fred looked over to where Harry was standing. "Listen, Harry, I couldn't have that bit of parchment me and George gave you last year, could I?" he asked, giving Harry a meaningful look. "We just want to borrow it for tonight," he said swiftly as he noticed Harry's hesitation.

"Oh, OK then." Harry quickly rummaged through his trunk before pulling out the carefully folded Marauder's Map, its blank state belying its true function. He handed it over with slight reluctance.

"Cheers," said Fred with a mischievous grin that made Harry wonder what exactly the twins wanted the map for.

Fred then turned to where his younger brother was viewing himself in the mirror. "And Ron, you really do make a smashing girl." He winked at Harry before quickly shutting the door to avoid the pillow Ron had chucked his way.

"Maybe I ought to just go in my school robes," Ron said dejectedly as he turned back to the mirror to inspect himself.

No one was saying anything to that so Harry made a suggestion. "You could always ask Hermione if she knows any spells to make it look less like..." he trailed off, not wanting to say the word 'dress' in his best friend's presence.

Ron perked up slightly and finally turned away from the mirror. "Yeah, Hermione would know. She knows _everything_."

He started to make his way towards the door before stopping and turning to Harry. "Er – could you go instead. It's just..." he gestured to his outfit. "You know; don't want people to get the wrong idea or anything."

Harry nodded his understanding and headed down the spiral staircase to the common room where several people were now milling around in robes of different sorts. Near the fireplace two girls wearing the same dress had just caught sight of each other and were both now wearing identical looks of horror and outrage.

He wove between the growing throng of students as he made his way to the door leading to the girls' dormitories. He opened the door and was just about to ascend the first step when an arm reached out and tugged him back.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said Katie Bell. The Gryffindor Chaser looked very different from usual in a set of shimmering bronze robes. Harry found it difficult to equate this poised creature with her tightly coiffure hairstyle to his Quidditch team mate who, more often than not, ended practice sessions with tangled hair and splatters of mud marring her face.

"What?" said Harry confused.

Katie grinned. "Sorry, Harry, but no males are allowed up these stairs."

"What? Then how come girls are allowed up to the boys' dormitories?"

"Girls are more virtuous, don't you know. We can be far more trusted. But who were you looking for?"

"Hermione," said Harry. "Ron's sort of having some problems with his dress robes so we thought she might know some spells."

"Strange – I thought only girls had wardrobe malfunctions." Harry couldn't help but grin at that as he recalled Fred's teasing. "I'll just go get her for you."

A few minutes later and Katie reappeared with Hermione in tow. It was incredibly strange to see Hermione dressed up in robes of periwinkle blue that floated around her. More unnerving was the absence of her trademark bushy hair which had been twisted into an elegant knot at the back of her head.

"Well?" asked Hermione expectantly, smiling nervously and gesturing to herself.

"Ron needs some help with his dress robes," he explained, unsure why Hermione's smile slid into a frown.

"Very well; lead on, then," she said tightly. Her lips were pursed together in a thin line as she followed Harry up to the fourth year boys' dormitory.

When they entered the tower room a few minutes later Ron's eyes jumped away from the mirror to focus on them. He grinned in relief before he seemed to notice Hermione's get-up.

"You look different," he said, almost accusingly.

"Yes, I do, though I'm starting to wonder why I bothered." Harry couldn't understand why she glared at him. "Now do you want my help or not?"

Ron nodded eagerly and Hermione moved over to where he stood.

"You know, you look rather pretty," said Ron cautiously as Hermione checked over his robes.

For a moment, Harry saw Hermione's face morph into an expression more reminiscent of Lavender Brown as she smiled and patted her sleek and shiny hair. It was slightly disturbing to watch, though Ron didn't seem to find anything wrong.

Eventually it was decided that the lacy cuffs and collar would have to go. It ended up making the robes look a lot more bearable; Ron was even prepared to leave the room. He seemed so pleased that he even mentioned something about dancing with Hermione in exchange for the help.

The common room had only grown more crowded than before as they descended the staircase. It was odd seeing a kaleidoscope of colours instead of the usual mass of black. Everyone also seemed to appear older as the girls held themselves with grace and the boys stood up straighter. Only the scattering of first and second years that hadn't been able to buy new robes from Hogsmeade wore the normal, black school robes.

The effect increased as they entered the Great Hall and joined the rest of the school for the feast. Even the teachers had dressed for the occasion, though Professor McGonagall's attempt at a smile looked slightly pained.

The Great Hall had been decorated for the occasion. Gigantic pumpkins that had been hollowed out and filled with candles now hung in mid-air providing scatterings of light. Live clouds of bats swooped down over the different tables causing a few of the younger years to shriek as they flew within arms-distance. Delicate-looking cobwebs had been artfully distributed across the hall and trickles of fake blood dripped down the walls.

As usual, the food was delicious and Harry quickly helped himself to second helping. He briefly wondered whether Dudley would think magic so freakish if he could see the feasts Hogwarts put on.

Eventually the remnants of the meal disappeared from sight along with the used plates and goblets.

At the High Table, Dumbledore got to his feet and waited patiently for the chatter to die down. He surveyed the room as he smiled down on them much like a grandfather would at his grandchildren.

As he spoke, he clasped his hands together. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I believe it to be time to move on to the entertainment for tonight. As I am sure most of you already know from the look of your delightfully colourful robes, we are to be honoured tonight by a performance from the Weird Sisters."

At the mention of the famous band excited murmurings in muted tones broke out over the hall as students conversed with their neighbours. Again Dumbledore, dressed in purple robes covered with orange pumpkin motifs, waited until the buzz had quietened down.

"But first, I believe a little redecoration is in order." Wand in hand, he directed them out of their seats before shrinking all the house tables and benches and banishing them towards an antechamber leading off from the Great Hall. Another flick of the wand and the smaller High Table was repositioned to the left-hand side of the hall with the chairs stacking themselves up and following the house tables into the adjoining room.

The headmaster then guided the small clumps of Slytherin students away from the right-hand wall before conjuring a raised platform. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello and some bagpipes were set upon it.

The eight band members of the Weird Sisters trooped onto the conjured stage to wild applause. They were all extremely hairy and were wearing artfully ripped black robes with swatches of orange loosely sewn on. To enthusiastic screams they picked up their instruments and began to play a loud, discordant tune that had Lavender Brown squealing with glee as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

While most people clambered towards the stage, Harry stayed put near where the High Table was now set up. A large, glass bowl filled with pumpkin juice along with several rows of goblets had appeared on the table.

Ron stood next to him, fiddling with the neatly trimmed cuffs. Hermione was standing a bit away as she chatted to Ron's younger sister.

Harry caught a glimpse of Padma Patil dressed in robes of bright turquoise. She was standing near to the stage dancing with a group of Ravenclaws. She smiled prettily at him and Harry grinned back before the crowd blocked her from view.

The music carried on playing throughout the night and an unwilling Harry was even forced by Hermione to have a go at dancing. After two songs, though, he believed that he'd done his duty and wandered around the outskirts of the dancing hordes.

"Look at her," Ginny had sidled up beside him and was pointing towards the isolated figure of Luna Lovegood. The blond witch was swaying to the music with her arms flying around in the air. Her hair dangled loose around her and Harry realised as she twirled that her wand was stuck behind her right ear.

"Has she always been like that?" he asked. He distantly remembered Mr Weasley mentioning the Lovegood family on the trek to the Portkey in the summer.

"What? The whole being strange thing? She's been like that since first year," she said dismissively as she turned away from the odd witch to face Harry.

"Bit sad, really," he said softly.

"Yeah, it is a bit. Anyway, do you want to dance?" The last bit was said rather quickly.

"What? Oh, no. I'm fine, thanks."

He noticed that her face fell slightly and that she was now refusing to meet his eyes. "Oh, OK. Just wondered. Anyway, um, I'm parched so I'll be off to find a drink, then."

"Right, then," Harry said uncomfortably and felt some relief when she quickly scuttled off.

Hermione came up to him then, smiling at him in exasperation. "You don't even realise how clueless you are, Harry, do you?" she asked rhetorically.

"What?" he asked, but Hermione only shook her head, sighing over him.

"Look, you don't happen to know where Ron is, do you?" he asked. He didn't actually need to talk to his other best friend, but he figured he might as well look around for him instead of just standing around looking like an idiot.

"He said he needed the loo a few minutes ago."

Harry nodded. "Right, well I'm going to try and find him. I'll be back soon, OK."

"OK. And remind Ron that he promised me a dance. I wouldn't be surprised if he's hiding away just so he doesn't have to go through with it."

"Will do," promised Harry before wrestling through the crowds to the exit.

Outside the Great Hall the music was muted somewhat and Harry was slightly relieved to be away from the loudness for a while. Several students lounged around on the marble staircase, talking to each other. There weren't so many students that Harry couldn't climb the stairs, however.

When he reached the first floor toilets it was to find a long queue with no Ron in sight. Noticing Dean, Harry strolled towards him.

"You haven't seen Ron, have you?" he asked, still peering around to see if he could glimpse maroon velvet anywhere nearby.

"Nah, sorry, Harry. I doubt he's here, to be honest, since I've been waiting an age," said Dean. "He's probably gone upstairs like everyone else."

"What? But why's-"

BANG! The sound of an explosion ripped through the corridor from the bathroom. Harry could just make out a cloud of dust sprinkling downwards through the open doorway as the queue scattered away from the room.

"What the hell?" Harry's eyes had gone wide as he tried to figure out what was going on.

The sound of a pair of familiar voices carried over to the awaiting crowd from the bathroom.

"That's just disgusting! Don't they clean underneath these things?"

"Eurgh! Look at the splotches. It's like someone did an anal bombardment!"

"Do you think Mum'd appreciate us sending it like this? It does show how much good use it's been through."

"For some reason I'm thinking not, old brother of mine. She'll already be coming down on us like a Fury with Howlers abound."

"Guess you're right. _Tergeo!_"

A few seconds later two ginger-haired figures appeared from the snowstorm of swirling dust. One of them was carrying a white, oval-shaped item that was instantly recognisable. Joining in with most of the others around him, Harry began to laugh.

"Behold – the Hogwarts toilet seat!" Fred Weasley lifted the porcelain object high into the air.

Everyone began to applaud and the twins began to take their bows. Lee Jordan had even brought along some transfigured flowers which he threw at their feet.

George noticed Harry then and walked towards him. In his hand was the Marauder's Map.

"Harry, old chum," he greeted jovially. "I hope you're not here for the toilet since we may have blown some of them up. We didn't realise how explosive the bombs were; an honest mistake. It's part Muggle, you see. Dad got hold of something called 'gumpowder' and Fred and me thought we'd test it out."

George looked over at the mess the bathroom had become. "Glad we didn't test it in the common room. I think we might have to blame this one on Peeves."

The lanky sixth-year glanced down at the Marauder's Map and blanched. "Bugger," he said softly before turning to his twin. "Oi, Fred, Filch is heading this way. Looks like we need to make a quick getaway."

"Righty-ho," said Fred turning to the small crowd in front of him. "Listen you lot, you didn't see us. If anyone asks, blame it on Peeves."

With a quick goodbye the twins then legged it up the corridor with the toilet seat in hand.

The crowd quickly dispersed after that; nobody wanted to be around when Filch turned up. Likewise Harry decided to leave the area and head to the next floor to see if he could find Ron. It was only after the twins disappeared that he remembered how handy the map could be at locating someone.

The boys' second floor bathroom had a queue snaking out the door. Apparently, over the weekend, someone had cursed one of the toilets to spew out its contents. The poor first year who had befallen the regurgitating toilet was still being cleaned up with the help of a fifth year prefect.

Looking around, Harry saw no sign of Ron. A short, scrawny second year told him in a voice that was beginning to break that he hadn't seen anyone wearing maroon dress robes.

Drifting towards the stairwell leading back down to the first floor, inspiration struck. Myrtle's bathroom!

It was a girls' bathroom that was abandoned with the single exception of Moaning Myrtle, a ghost who had decided to haunt the place where she had died. Two years ago Hermione had brewed Polyjuice Potion in secret there. It was also there where Harry had also discovered the concealed entrance to the all too real Chamber of Secrets.

The bathroom was located on the second floor so Harry continued walking down the corridor that stretched throughout the level. As he walked, the barely audible sounds emanating from the Great Hall grew quieter and quieter until it became deathly silent with only the sound of his footsteps treading softly being heard. The first prickling of unknown trepidation rose inside him.

No one was around this wing of the second floor. It was eerily empty as Harry ventured further along the corridor with only dim pools of candlelight guiding his way. He reached for the pocket where his wand usually rested to illuminate the corridor only to recall that he'd left it on his bed. Cursing himself at this oversight, he contemplated heading back into a more populated area, but dismissed the notion as being childish.

On reaching the bathroom, he hesitantly stepped inside. He jumped slightly as the door swung shut behind him with an unsettling thump.

The room was dimly lit with candles that cast shadows over the room. Wooden cubicles lined either side of the walls, their doors splintered and worn with neglect. Faded graffiti scribbles and scratched engravings were scrawled onto the wood.

_Drip-drip-drip..._

One of the stone sinks was leaking. Pearl-drops of water dribbled from a loose tap hitting the chipped stone.

The stale air smelt of damp and mildew which became only more pungent as he took a few steps further into the bathroom.

_Splash!_

His foot stepped in a small pool of water glistening near the door.

Harry's eyes flickered around the small room. He took in that three of the cubicles were closed. "Ron?" he called out softly, wary about making a lot of noise.

The sound hung in the still air, unanswered. Ron wasn't here.

_Drip-drip-drip..._

Shivering involuntarily, Harry rubbed his arms together. The room seemed to be growing colder.

"Myrtle?" He wondered whether the ghost was playing some sort of trick on him.

Only unnerving silence answered him.

_Splash!_

He stood stock-still, almost afraid to move. His breathing sounded shaky and far too loud. His arms were stiff with tension. He hadn't made that sound.

A single bead of sweat trickled down from under his right arm. He swallowed nervously only to find his mouth dry.

Bracing himself, he spun round.

No one was there.

He let out a shaky laugh, rubbing his forehead. He was going insane.

Turning back around, he noticed the spotted mirror above the stone sinks. A large crack splintered through it, dividing it into two halves. He berated himself for not looking at it before and saving himself from his ridiculous panic.

"I'm such an idiot," he muttered softly.

Then he heard the door swing open.

Harry jumped and turned to face the door.

"Professor?"

"Potter?" Abravan was staring at him in surprise. His wand was out and he was now peering round the bathroom with calculating eyes. "What are you doing here? It seems to me that this is a girls' bathroom."

Harry's heart rate was starting to slow and he wondered why he'd been afraid. He'd faced far worse situations than a mere bathroom before, even if he'd been equipped with his wand on those occasions.

Abravan was giving him a funny look and Harry remembered the professor's words. "I know," he said. "I was looking for Ron."

"And you thought you'd be finding him in a girls' bathroom?"

"No! Well – yes. Sort of. No one uses this bathroom since it's sort of haunted and all the other toilets have long queues since the tw- someone – blew up most of the toilets," he said quickly, hoping Abravan didn't pick up on his stumble over the mention of the twins.

The professor's eyes were still flickering around the bathroom, resting briefly on the closed wooden stalls before glancing back at him. "Well, it's seems to me that your friend isn't here, so maybe you ought to be heading on down to the Great Hall again."

Glad for an escape, Harry quickly agreed and hurriedly walked back to the Halloween Ball and the discordant music. He only allowed himself to relax when he made it to the Entrance Hall which was teeming with people escaping the noise for a while.

It was in the Entrance Hall that he spotted the conspicuous maroon velvet dress robes. Ron and Hermione were talking to each other at the bottom of the marble staircase and so Harry plopped down next to them.

"Harry! Where have you been?" asked Hermione. Her hair had come slightly undone by this point in the night and a few brown tendrils framed her face.

"Searching for him," said Harry, gesturing to Ron.

Ron looked confused. "But I'm right here."

Harry just shook his head and didn't bother replying. He suddenly felt extremely tired and was not looking forward to getting up early tomorrow for Divination.

"But how come you were looking for me?"

"I can't even remember why now," said Harry before yawning. "Hermione said you went to the loo so I went up to the first floor and ended up watching Fred and George nick a toilet seat and-"

"So you heard about that?" interrupted Ron.

"Yeah, I was there for the explosion."

"Wicked! But I bet Mum's going to blow a gasket when she finds out. I heard that Filch came running when he heard the bang."

Hermione was scrunching her nose in distaste. "I dread to think of the amount of bacteria on it."

"Bacteria?" questioned Ron.

"Never mind," said Hermione with a roll of the eyes.

"Anyway," continued Harry. "I then went up to the second floor only I couldn't see you there-"

"Nah, you wouldn't. I went up to Gryffindor Tower 'cause some idiot split a drink on my robes so I needed to get my wand."

"That explains why I never saw you. Anyway, when I didn't see you there I thought you might have gone to Myrtle's bathroom since-"

"You thought I'd go to _that_ bathroom? A haunted bathroom with a ghost who could watch me do my business? Are you mad, Harry? Myrtle's a pervert and I don't want to give her a free show. Merlin knows what she'd think." Ron looked queasy at the thought while Hermione hid a smile with her hand.

Harry considered for a moment telling his two friends what had happened in the bathroom but he decided against it. He didn't want to tell them about his irrational fear of an empty bathroom which sounded ridiculous even in his own head. Besides, neither of them knew of his suspicions about Abravan.

It was only later that night when he was drifting off to sleep that he wondered to himself why Abravan was in Myrtle's bathroom. The only thing special about the place was the Chamber of Secrets, and it wasn't as though many people knew about that...


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Author's Note: A big thank you to those who reviewed; it's really appreciated. You probably won't get an update for another month since I have exams in a few weeks and then I have to move out of university accommodation. But then it's summer and I have three months off to doss around and write unless I'm coerced into getting a job. Oh, and if anyone spots any spelling or grammatical errors, please let me know.

Chapter Eight

It was an effort to get up the next morning. The ball had ended at midnight and sleep hadn't come until after one. The fact that Divination was first was just another reason for Harry's lack of motivation.

It was the same for most of the students. Everyone had bleary eyes and contagious yawning spread throughout the Great Hall during breakfast.

Fred and George looked especially worse for wear. Apparently McGonagall had heard about the toilet seat and had immediately thought of them. The twins had maintained that it was Peeves and the poltergeist had done nothing to nay-say this so it appeared that they were off the hook.

"She started on about destruction of school property and having to pay for repairs so we're using Peeves as a get out," George told Harry solemnly as he buttered a slice of toast. "Luckily Peeves as good as admitted that it was him so we should get away with it. We've hidden up the toilet seat so it can't be traced back to us. Oh, and on that note, here's the map back."

He handed over the now blank map to Harry who quickly pocketed it. He was relieved to see no brown stains after the previous night's incident. It was one of the only heirlooms he owned and he didn't want to see it ruined.

By the time breakfast ended Harry was feeling a bit more awake though the idea of Divination still held little appeal. He'd grown sick of Trelawney and her death predictions and, despite what Hermione might think, it was actually rather difficult to keep thinking up dire forecasts every week.

Trelawney herself seemed to be acting stranger than usual during their lesson up in the North Tower. She ambled around the clusters of chintz armchairs in a daze, occasionally muttering to herself.

"Death smiles upon you, my dear," she told Harry as she sauntered passed his and Ron's circular table, her silk shawl slipping down her thin, spindly arms. "The celestial bodies speak to my Inner Eye."

Ron and Harry exchanged unimpressed looks which soon turned into sniggers as Ron noticed a small collection of empty sherry bottles poking out under the winged armchair by the burning fire. Lavender Brown turned round and gave them a dirty look when they started doing impressions of their tipsy Divination teacher.

It seemed to Harry that Trelawney was a bit too fond of the sherry since she appeared rather out of it in most of their lessons following Halloween. Not that Harry dwelt on the subject of Trelawney's alcohol problem for long; he had more important things to think about.

With the arrival of November came the beginning of the Quidditch season. Angelina suddenly seemed to be channelling Oliver Wood and Quidditch practices had almost taken over his life.

Harry didn't really understand why Angelina was stressing out about their first game against Slytherin. It wasn't like Malfoy had any skill. But when he had commented on this to Katie at the end of one of their more gruelling practices the sixth year Quidditch captain had overheard and turned on Harry like some enraged Hippogriff.

"Don't get cocky," she said angrily, poking her finger out at him. "Underestimating the enemy could cost us the game. I'm not letting Gryffindor lose the Quidditch cup while I'm captain!"

She had then stormed off with a wryly smiling Alicia quickly chasing after her.

"Well someone's PMSing," said George as he pushed in between Harry and Katie.

Katie tried to elbow the ginger-haired Beater only he dodged out of the way. "She's just stressed out by the whole thing. She'll be OK once we've thrashed Slytherin; it's going to be a doddle."

True to Katie's words, the match against Slytherin was a walk in the park. While the Slytherin team were every bit as unscrupulous as usual with fouls being committed left and right, it was more down to one of their Chasers that they lost; that and Draco Malfoy's inability to catch anything remotely resembling a Snitch.

Marcus Flint had finally graduated from Hogwarts and so the Slytherin sixth year, Miles Bletchley, had been made captain. He had made the fatal error of putting his girlfriend, one Emily Gerard, on the team as Chaser.

Gerard had seemed unable to cope with flying, let alone catching the Quaffle. Her broom had been all over the place and one of her own side's Beaters had grown so annoyed that a Bludger had been hit her way more than once over the course of the game.

After the match the Slytherins had turned on the only female on the team and Harry thought it highly unlikely that he would ever see the girl play again. Gerard, however, didn't seem too fussed about the matter from what Harry could see as he was lead away to the castle by the exuberant Gryffindors to celebrate the victory.

While Quidditch had taken up most of his free time, Harry had not forgotten the mystery of the withered body, nor his suspicions concerning his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. At every opportunity he had scouted the library for books on cursed objects hoping to find some evidence to suggest that a cursed item could leave no magical residue.

So far everything he'd read had vetoed his suspicions. All the books said that leaving a magical residue was a certainty, leading Harry to believe that either his suspicions were entirely misplaced or else Abravan knew something no one else did.

Despite reaching a dead end in his investigation, Harry had gained a greater understanding behind cursed objects. How long the curse lasted varied considerably with some curses lasting mere hours – historically used for assassination purposes - while others lingered for decades. According to the widely believed _Vivacitas Maledicti _Theorem, there were several determining factors in how long a basic curse could last: power, skill, clarity of emotion and, most important of all, intent.

He had also discovered what exactly _defixiones _were. Popular more in ancient times, they were cursed tablets written by wizards seeking to punish their enemies. The magic involved in creating a _defixio_ was minute and consequently could be easily dispelled by a wizard's innate magic. It was for this reason that they had been used more against non-magic folk, and thus why the practice had died out when the wizards and Muggles had parted ways centuries ago.

Some of the books he'd read had touched on runic curses. Ancient runes could store magic for millennia if the process of charging up the runes was done correctly. Setting up runic curses accurately, though, was extremely time-consuming; this was the reason why, in ancient Egypt, wizards would take years to set up curses on the tombs of the dead.

The time-consuming nature of runic curses had led to mixed curses being used: a combination of runic and basic curses. While these types of curses were advantageous in some respects, such as being quicker to set up and requiring less knowledge and skill with runes, they had a smaller life span and were easier to detect and dismantle.

There was a lot of information that Harry hadn't understood. He'd skipped over much of the theoretical aspect of runic curses after realising that it was NEWT level and above. He was just nearing the half-way point in his _Ancient Runes: Book One_ textbook and didn't think he had nearly enough understanding to tackle such theories as the combination of different runic styles, overlaying rune patterns and the degradation gradient of runes. He was still having trouble trying to figure out what the word 'dative' meant and so didn't think he'd be facing the runic shift paradigm for a few more years.

But reading up on the practical aspect of runes increased his motivation to study the subject. The textbook he was translating from was interesting and Hermione had been kind enough to give him her marked translations from the year before for him to check his work against. Why she still had her work from the year before was beyond him, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

Harry supposed that it was his focus on runes, curses and Quidditch that meant he had missed the shifting relationship between his two best friends. Nothing had been said but on the run-down to the Christmas holidays he started to realise a change in the dynamics between the three of them. For the first time in his friendship with Ron and Hermione, he began to feel almost out of place.

It was a worrying realisation for Harry who had never had any form of friend before Hogwarts. He was happy with the status quo and didn't like the growing sense that his two best friends were slowly but surely drifting away from him. It was for that reason that he put aside the feeling and ignored what was going on in the hope that the problem would just go away.

While the term ran on, the awareness of being the odd one out was buffered by school work and the general racket caused by a castle full of students. In addition, the countdown to Christmas was filled with the run up to the election for the Minister of Magic.

Fudge's days seemed numbered if what the Daily Prophet reported was true. The incompetence of the security at the World Cup followed by the disgrace of losing the Triwizard Tournament to Germany was too much for the British public to be able to excuse.

There were also the increasing allegations that the current Minister was engaging in a sordid affair with his secretary. Whether it was true or not, it appeared to be the figurative nail in the coffin for Fudge's hopes of being re-elected for a second term in office.

More speculation was focused on the two candidates running against the current Minster: Amelia Bones, the current head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Albert Watkins, the deputy head of the Department of Magical Transportation.

"I'm voting for Watkins," Angelina told Harry when he enquired after one of their Quidditch practises. He had remembered that she was seventeen and therefore old enough to vote.

Jason snorted as he crouched down next to the large wooden crate that stored the four different Quidditch balls. The team was currently standing around waiting for the twins to retrieve the two Bludgers. "I bet you're just thinking about his brother."

"Not that it's any of your business, but I think he has some good policies like free emergency Floo powder. Just because I like Quidditch doesn't mean I'm going to vote for him."

Harry was confused. "What does Quidditch have to do with anything?"

"Albert Watkins's brother was Fabius Watkins, the legendary Chaser for the Montrose Magpies. He's trying to get Quidditch fans on his side through his brother as well as the sympathy vote for what happened to Fabius."

That name sounded familiar. "Fabius Watkins? Wait a minute – wasn't he the Chaser who collided with a helicopter?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Damned shame, too. According to my dad he was brilliant. I'm not too keen on his brother, though," said Jason in a more subdued tone. "He has issues."

Angelina looked unimpressed as she folded her arms. Sceptically, she repeated him: "Issues?"

"Putting it bluntly, he's not a fan of Muggles," said the seventh year Keeper. "The Prophet keeps playing up his devotion to his younger brother, but they're forgetting – or more likely they're just plain omitting - that he hates Muggles as a result. He still blames them for his brother's death. At one time there was even speculation that he was a supporter of You Know Who."

"A Death Eater?" The mention of Voldemort's followers sounded strange to Harry's ears as his mind drifted back to the Quidditch World Cup and the masked wizards rampaging through the campsite. The term seemed somehow out of place on Hogwarts grounds.

Jason shook his head. "No, just one of those who agreed with him about the place of Muggles in the world. Quite a few people did until they realised to what extent You Know Who was willing to go."

There was a pause for a moment as the three of them merely watched Fred and George wheedle Alicia and Katie into being Bludger targets.

"So you're voting for Bones, then," said Angelina eventually. Her arms were still folded, but her face betrayed that she was still thinking about what the easy-going seventh year had said.

"Yep, Bones all the way. She's the head of the DMLE so she knows what needs to be done to improve security and she seems like a fair leader who wants to make a positive difference. Plus, her niece gave me a slice of cake," he added with a grin.

It was true that Susan Bones had started doing some campaigning on her aunt's behalf. The red-headed Hufflepuff had even produced some badges supporting Amelia Bones's campaign, which several sixth and seventh years now sported.

Harry personally leaned more towards Bones after reading about her proposed reforms of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the newspaper. She wanted to increase Auror intake and tighten security surrounding all magical areas. Closer to Harry's heart was her pledge to improve the education system and ensure a quality standard in teaching. After years of having to put up with mainly sub-par Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers along with Binns and Trelawney, he thought the idea held great merit.

The whole system surrounding the election was a bit harder to understand. Hermione had been forced to explain it to him after he found out that, unlike in Muggle politics, there weren't any political parties.

"Honestly Harry, I can't believe you don't know," she had said in disbelief when he'd let slip his ignorance on the magical world's political system. "You could have been entering a dictatorship without even knowing about it!"

Harry thought that was taking it a bit too far. He attempted to excuse his ignorance. "Well it's not as though Hagrid sat me down and explained politics to me. Besides, I was more interested in finding out how my parents died after being lied to for ten years."

"I suppose," she conceded with a frown.

She had then gone on to explain the workings of the wizarding government. The Wizengamot was the central body of politics. There were forty-nine members who were elected by constituencies throughout the country on an annual basis. They were the ones who presided over any changes in the laws and functioned as the high court of wizarding law.

General elections to vote for the Minister of Magic took place at least every seven years, though the current minister could call for an election at any period during his seven year tenancy. This was what Fudge had done since he still had another three more years left in power had he not called for an early election.

"He probably thought the success of the Quidditch World Cup and the Triwizard Tournament would get him re-elected," deduced Harry.

"Most likely," said Hermione. "But it's rather backfired on him, hasn't it."

The members of the Wizengamot put forward several different candidates for minister. An internal vote would then be taken to whittle the contenders to two. The current minister or, in some cases, their chosen successor, was added to the nominees and so gave the public three candidates to choose from. In the case of the current election there was Bones, Watkins and Fudge to choose from.

"All the prospective candidates have to be accepted by the Dukes' Council. It's their responsibility to vet the candidates and make sure they're suitable," said Hermione knowledgably.

"The Dukes' Council? Why – is there a wizarding aristocracy?"

"Nah, not really," said Ron who had listened in silently until then. "There used to be until sometime in the 1600s, I think, but a lot of the old families died out so they had to change it all around. I think Dad once mentioned something about it being the reason why the Ministry of Magic was created 'cause it was a bunch of lords who used to run everything. I dunno much about it all, but I do know that only the seven dukes were allowed to keep their titles."

It turned out that the seven dukes had been reduced in number to four with the Le Fay, Everton and Azwell lines dying out over the course of the last few centuries. Not that it really mattered; the dukes' role was more ceremonial than essential and most wizards were patiently waiting for all the lines to die out and end the aristocracy for good. They only stepped into the political scene during election time and theoretically had the power to commandeer the government during emergency situations such as in the event of the minister's assassination. At the end of the day, they had a very minor role in the whole thing.

The election itself was being held a week into the Christmas holiday. The result would then be announced the next day and the inauguration ceremony would take place three days later.

As Christmas tumbled ever closer and the castle's grounds became blanketed in a sheet of snow festive cheer gripped Hogwarts. Students chatted on about their holiday plans and promised to meet up with their friends. In the upper years discussion of the upcoming election continued on. The castle rang with noise.

Until there was silence.

One day the castle was filled with students and the next it was silent as hordes of children departed early morning on the Saturday with their trunks loaded up. One minute the corridors were bustling with crowds and in the next moment they became empty expanses.

It was Harry's fourth Christmas spent at Hogwarts. Choosing between staying at the castle and returning to the Dursleys was not exactly a hard decision to make. He briefly entertained himself by imagining the looks of outrage he'd receive if he suddenly turned up at number four. He estimated it would take at least until the summer for his only remaining relatives to forgive him for the tongue incident.

Ron and Hermione had decided to stay with him over the holiday. While he was at first grateful for their company, he soon became increasingly irritated how, more often than not, they ended up wandering off together.

It was for this reason that he was heading to the library. The common room turned into a rather boring place when deserted and, while he knew it would be ridiculously easy to find out where his two friends had got to with the help of a certain map, he decided that if they didn't want him present then he wasn't going to bother chasing after them.

The library, however, wasn't as empty as he'd thought it'd be. Sitting in plain sight of the door was the seated form of Padma Patil. She was nibbling at the end of a rather diminished Sugar Quill as she looked over a sheet of parchment.

He hadn't realised that anyone from his year aside from Ron and Hermione was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. At the back of his mind he knew there was one Slytherin and four Ravenclaws down on the list to stay, but he hadn't realised she was staying. He'd figured that since Parvati was gone, so too would her twin.

The door slammed shut and the Ravenclaw witch looked up from her desk and straight at him. She smiled hesitantly at him, her half-eaten Sugar Quill resting against the side of her face.

The smile gave Harry the confidence to make his way over to her desk. He indicated at the chair opposite her. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

"Yes – I mean, no; I don't mind at all. Let me just move all my stuff out the way." She leaned across the table, quickly gathering her books together into a pile by her side.

Harry looked down on one of the textbooks as it was added to the pile. Written in embossed letters were the words _Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_. His brows raised in surprise as he recognised the title as a textbook for sixth years.

"Getting a head start on homework, then?" he asked, nodding his head towards the scroll of parchment she had quickly rolled up.

Padma looked slightly guilty. "Well, that was the plan only, well, let's just say that the plan's altered course."

With a wry smile she unrolled the parchment scroll and revealed a page filled with doodles. "I'm thinking about giving it up as a lost cause and doing what I usually do."

"What's that?"

"Leave it to the last minute. Probably not a good thing, but it usually works out rather well." She smiled self-deprecatingly.

Harry was surprised at that. He'd always presumed that Ravenclaws did their homework as soon as they got it, much like Hermione. He mentioned as such out loud.

"You're thinking of the wrong Ravenclaw house. I only know a few people who are motivated enough to get their homework over and done with. The common room's always filled with people quickly finishing off their work due in the next day, or sometimes even the next lesson."

There was a slight pause in the conversation then. While not awkward, it wasn't exactly comfortable either and Harry desperately cast his mind around for things to say but came up blank.

It was Padma who broke the silence. "So what are you in the library for?"

Not wanting to mention Ron and Hermione's disappearing act and how he had planned to while away his time doing nothing productive, he answered with the first thing he could think of. "I was looking for a dictionary. A Muggle dictionary."

"Oh, you mean an encyclopaedia? But I thought you lived with Muggles? And, wait a minute – you don't do Muggle Studies; well, I've never seen you in class." She looked baffled.

A bit disconcerted that she knew part of his background, he quickly corrected her assumption. "No, not an encyclopaedia. I just need a dictionary to find out what the word 'dative' means. Hermione tried to explain but it sort of went over my head and I only pretended to understand so I can't really ask her again."

"Yes, I can see your quandary." Her dark eyes gleamed with amusement. "Dative means the indirect object."

"Yeah, Hermione mentioned something like that." He was still lost.

Padma laughed. "Which means you still have no idea what it means, do you?"

"I'd sort of be lying if I said otherwise."

"Right then – an example: 'the girl gave flowers to her mum'. Now, what's the subject?"

"The girl."

"Right, and what's the object?"

"The mum?" guessed Harry.

"Sorry, but I'm afraid it's the flowers. The mum is the indirect object since the object – the flowers –are being given _to_ her. Any clearer?"

"A bit." It made more sense than Hermione's long-winded speech that mentioned a whole spiel of other cases like the accusative and nominative and Merlin knows what else.

"Or you could just fall back on to what I do."

"Which is?"

"If you notice it's a dative case then use the words 'to' or 'for' before it. That's how you're supposed to translate it, anyway."

"That makes a bit more sense. Thanks."

"That's OK; I'm just glad I could help out." She offered him a small smile and Harry couldn't help but grin in return.

There was another brief lull in conversation before Padma once again filled the silence. "Are you studying a language, then?"

Harry looked briefly puzzled and Padma was quick to explain herself. "Because of the whole dative thing, I figured…"

"Oh, right. Ancient Runes, actually. Someone gave me the first book and I've been studying it in my own time."

"I was going to say – I've never seen you in class."

"Yeah, I sort of didn't pay too much attention to what subjects I chose at the end of second year and I've only recently realised how badly I picked." He recalled copying down the same electives as Ron and wished heartily that he'd thought about it a bit more.

Padma gave him a look filled with sympathy. "Divination, right? I seem to recall Parvati telling me you were fated to die after Trelawney saw the Grim in your future. I'm glad to see you haven't left the land of the living just yet."

"It's nice to know someone cares," he said drolly.

Padma grinned. "Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without you."

"Oh really?"

"Well, let's see… There was the troll in first year and then the whole thing about the third floor corridor." She started counting the incidents with her fingers. "In second year you decided against riding on the Hogwarts Express and instead flew here in an enchanted car… and then there was the whole Chamber of Secrets thing. Now wait, what happened last year…? Oh, you fell off your broom-"

"It was more being forced off, actually. There was a whole swarm of Dementors, you know," he felt it compulsory to add. He didn't like the notion of her thinking that it was lack of skill that knocked him off his Nimbus Two Thousand.

She grinned at him impishly, showing her set of straight, pearly white teeth before continuing on. "And then there was the whole thing of Sirius Black breaking into your dormitory, though I suppose that's more to do with your friend Ron than you from what I've heard. I still wonder how Black got into Hogwarts in the first place…"

Harry replied unthinkingly. "Through a secret passageway."

She looked at him sharply and Harry cursed his slip of the tongue. Sirius was still on the run and here he was blabbing away about his godfather's secrets to a girl he hardly knew.

"Secret passageway?" She sounded intrigued and Harry leapt onto the subject in the hope of diverting her attention away from the dangerous topic of Sirius Black.

"Yeah, there's tons of them. I can show you some if you want." He tried to convince himself that his offer was just a ploy to distract her from his godfather and had nothing to do with showing off to the prettiest girl in his year.

Her dark eyes danced with excitement. "Really? You'd show me? You wouldn't mind at all?"

"'Course I don't mind. That is if you don't mind leaving your homework behind?"

The pretty Indian witch glanced at the rolled up parchment which hid the evidence of her bored doodling. She bit her lip slightly before her mouth widened into a smile. "I think I'm going to give it up as a lost cause."

"Even the _Advanced Transfiguration_?" Harry couldn't help but say.

She looked confused for a moment before comprehension dawned. "Oh! That's not mine; it was there when I got here. I wouldn't even understand half of it. I'm definitely not that smart."

"Despite being a Ravenclaw?"

"You certainly seem to have a lot of misconceptions about my house. We're not all Hermione Granger replicas." She then seemed to realise what she'd said and, more precisely, who she'd said it to. Her face took on a look of sheer mortification. "That's really horrible of me to say and I really, really didn't mean it like that. It's just everyone thinks if you're in Ravenclaw you have to be really smart and get Os all the time and it's really annoying. And I really didn't mean to say that about Hermione."

Harry waved off her apologies. "Don't be sorry; she'd probably be glad to know that you think she's so smart."

"But still…"

He shook his head at her as he stood up from his chair. "Come on, let's go explore."

He stretched out his hand to her which she clasped in her own as he pulled her to her feet. They shared a smile.

"You know I've always wanted to find a secret passageway," said Padma as they walked out of the library.

"Then why didn't you?"

"I went out searching with my friend, Mandy, in first year only we got a bit lost and ended up missing for nearly four hours, so I've never really attempted it again. But since you know your way around, I don't have to worry."

Get lost, however, they did. Several times in fact. They did manage to find several shortcuts, some of which weren't even mentioned on the Marauder's Map which Harry had left in his dormitory.

They skipped lunch entirely to follow a hidden passageway that grew smaller and smaller as they walked along until they were almost crawling. It ended up opening into a huge room filled with house-elves who stared at them in shock before starting to offer them snacks of all kinds. They had managed to find the kitchens of Hogwarts via the house-elf entrance.

After that unexpected find they strolled aimlessly along the empty stone corridors. Padma had coerced him into speaking about the troll incident in their first year and in turn Harry wanted to hear about her first year.

"It's hardly as exciting as yours. I don't know why you want to hear about it."

But Harry persisted, grinning. "Come on, there must be something memorable. I'm sure you're hiding something."

"Well," she said with great reluctance, "there was the time I thought I'd killed the Giant Squid."

He stopped dead and turned to stare at her in amazement. "You what?"

She cringed, hiding her face in her hands. "Merlin, this is embarrassing."

"You can't stop after saying something like that! You've made me really curious now."

She scrunched up her nose and looked at the ceiling before facing him with a sigh. "It was after our exams and me and Mandy and some others were outside, and my mum had sent me some biscuity things and well, I sort of gave one to the Giant Squid. Well, to one of his tentacles, anyway. You know how he sometimes runs them along the lake surface."

Harry nodded his understanding, wondering what she was getting at.

"I thought nothing of it until Terry started convulsing after I gave him one of the biscuits. None of us knew what was going on so Morag and Anthony – this was when him and Terry were still friends, you see – hurried him to the hospital wing.

"Soon after that Lisa saw the Giant Squid lifting its tentacles off out of the water for some reason. I don't know why, but for some reason I couldn't get it out of my head that he must be suffering like Terry. And then I realised that both of them had eaten my biscuits. And it was all my fault so I dove in."

Harry's eyes went wide as he looked at her in shock.

"I know; I don't what on earth I was thinking! And then the Squid went still and I thought I must have poisoned him or something. I was feeling _really_ guilty and wondering whether Professor Dumbledore was going to expel me for killing it. I could almost hear my father telling me how I'd brought shame to the entire family.

"But then the blasted thing suddenly started moving again and squirted me in ink!"

Harry couldn't help it and started to laugh.

"Don't laugh! It's not funny!" But despite her protestations a smile tugged at her lips. "It's really not! It took me weeks to get it all out of my hair. I hate that damned squid."

Harry couldn't take her seriously, though. Especially not when she was laughing, too.

They were still laughing about it when they entered the Great Hall for dinner.

"All the older Ravenclaws called me Inky. It was _so_ humiliating!"

They reached the Ravenclaw table where the other three Ravenclaws staying for the holiday – two fifth years and one second year – were sitting and Harry realised that he didn't want to say goodbye just yet despite spending the last several hours in Padma's company.

"You know, I'm pretty sure no one would mind if you sat down on the Gryffindor table," he said casually, hoping she didn't realise just how much he hoped she'd agree.

She smiled brilliantly. "OK, then."

Harry grinned and led her over to the Gryffindor table where Ron and Hermione were sitting. Seeing them, Harry realised just how little he'd thought about his absent friends throughout the day. The underlying anger he'd felt earlier on returned, but he forced himself not to show it.

"Where have you been?" Hermione immediately wanted to know. "We didn't see you at lunch and were wondering where you'd gone."

"Exploring with Padma," he said shortly as he sat down opposite the Ravenclaw. He thought about questioning where they had been but decided he really didn't care to know.

"Oh, hi Padma," said Hermione, only then realising her presence. "How come you're at Hogwarts?"

With a start, Harry realised that even though he'd spent nearly the entire day with her he hadn't ever bothered to find out why she was at Hogwarts for Christmas.

"My parents are away on a business trip and my grandmother is in hospital in India so I couldn't go to her." She shrugged lightly. "I was given the option of going with Parvati to Lavender's, but I preferred staying here since I really didn't want my fortune being read every day."

Harry and her shared a grin as they remember her complaints about Divination and it's unnatural influence on her twin. "You know, she used to be perfectly sane until she went up to the North Tower," she had commented at one point during their exploring.

In Ron and Hermione's presence, though, the pair seemed to lose their easy camaraderie as Hermione dominated the conversation with talk of school work and Ancient Runes translations. Ron, on the other hand, stayed rather quiet throughout dinner as he gave his main focus to his food.

Once dinner was over with, though, Harry found himself wishing to linger, knowing that Padma would be returning to her separate common room.

"I had a really fun day today," she told him as they came to the point where Harry and his friends would go one way and she would go another.

"So did I. We ought to do it again. We do still need to find the human entrance to the kitchens."

"Yes, we do."

"How about tomorrow?" He said it quickly, hoping she'd agree.

"OK." She smiled and they parted ways.

That night he smiled into his pillow as he thought of a particular Ravenclaw witch. The Christmas holiday had certainly grown more interesting.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Regrettably, I still own nothing. Shame, that.

Author's Note: Many thanks to those who reviewed. It brightened up my days in the midst of revision. I'm now back home for three months so updates should be pretty regular, or so one hopes. Also a great big thank you to Master Slytherin and scaryisntit for their help. I've decided that I should never write an angry!Harry fic since it would be disastrous. And remember, if you see any errors please tell me and I'll be eternally – well, maybe not eternally – grateful. Oh, and I'm really sorry that I'm one day behind what I promised.

Chapter Nine

Harry tried to breathe as quietly as possible as he hid in the dark alcove. A suit of armour helped to conceal him from view. His eyes flickered around whilst his ears strained the silence in an attempt to hear his pursuer's footsteps.

In the shadows he attempted to read his watch face but it was too dark to make out. It should be around four o'clock he surmised. What that told him about the location of the person hunting him, he wasn't sure. It did mean that they would have to pack up in another hour or so, however. This in turn meant that he really didn't want to be found just yet. He didn't want to lose his chocolate frogs.

The slightest hint of creaking tipped him off to movement on the stairs towards the end of the corridor. He could just make out a single arm of the statue of Lachlan the Lanky that was located near the stairwell leading up from the sixth floor. He gripped his wand tightly and held himself rigidly still.

Seconds ticked away in silence tempting him to peer out of his hiding place to see if anyone was there. He resisted the urge.

Slowly a figure came into view, moving slowly down the stone corridor with a wand outstretched. Her face moved from side to side as she approached his hiding spot. Her footsteps made no sound, leading Harry to believe that a spell of some sort was involved.

It was times like this when he wished he could cast spells non-verbally. He remembered the fiasco of the Quidditch World Cup and how the Death Eaters had held the advantage with their silent spell-casting. He also remembered asking Hermione about it and learning that it wasn't covered until sixth year. After hearing that he had pushed the thought to one side; something he now regretted.

He could tell the exact moment she spotted him. Her eyes widened and she spun her wand towards him. She was too late. He was quicker: "_Labe_!" The fiery orange Trip Hex sent her off balance and onto the floor.

Grinning widely Harry then slid out of his hiding place and high tailed it up the corridor, hurriedly dodging the spells flying towards him. Skidding round the corner, he cursed as he realised that the staircase at the end of the corridor was swinging away from the ledge.

He only had a few seconds and he desperately needed a hiding place. The only problem was that the corridor was bathed in the afternoon light streaming in through the thick glass windows on one side of the wall. On the opposite wall there was nothing except a scattering of portraits that watched him in curiosity.

But then it appeared. A single door had materialised opposite the tapestry portraying Barnabus the Barmy's attempt at teaching ballet to a group of trolls.

Harry didn't hesitate. He slipped into the room and shut the door softly behind him.

Wonderful, thought Harry sarcastically to himself as he realised just what he'd stepped into - a hidden broom cupboard filled with mops, brooms and a whole host of cleaning products. He only hoped the doorway had disappeared from view otherwise he would be discovered pretty quickly in the rather compressed space.

Catching his breath back, Harry wished he could see what his pursuer was doing outside like how Muggles could monitor people through security cameras. He wasn't prepared to risk peeking out of the broom closet to check, however.

It came as quite a surprise, then, that he found himself no longer in a broom cupboard. Instead the room had extended outwards and all signs of cleaning equipment had vanished. A long desk now lined an entire wall and above it was a large screen showing the corridor outside. A rather wary Padma Patil was glancing around with narrowed eyes, a few tendrils of black hair poking out of her long French plait.

Harry grinned to himself as he noticed that the breadth of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy was completely blank. It looked like he wouldn't be losing his chocolate frogs any time soon and would in fact be gaining two Sugar Quills.

He wasn't sure who had suggested the idea. They had somehow gone from discussing childhood games – in which Harry had tried to pass of Harry Hunting as a fun pastime – to deciding that playing a variation of Hide and Seek at Hogwarts would be a great idea. Since tracking spells made it rather easy to find someone's general location they had changed it so that the game only ended when the hider was stunned. Padma had lasted roughly forty minutes hiding out and Harry had to beat that score in order to win the prize they had bet on.

He would only have to wait another – he checked his watch – seven minutes to beat her score. Seven minutes in which he could relax and watch her trying her hardest to find him. Sitting down on a recently materialised armchair he viewed the Indian witch in amusement.

She looked rather put-out that he had disappeared. Her brows were drawn together in confusion as she continued to look around the deserted corridor, her wand gripped firmly in her right hand. He absently noted that she never looked up at the ceiling which gave him an idea of what to look up in the library that evening.

He looked down at the desk surface and gave a small laugh. On the counter was an open-faced book showing a diagram of a wizard moving across the ceiling. Beneath the picture was a brief explanation followed by a series of illustrations describing the wand movements of the spell.

Grinning at the thought of no more trips to the library in a long search for the correct textbook, Harry was suddenly distracted by a noise. Sitting up straight in his armchair he glanced up at the large screen and noticed that Padma must have heard it too. She had spun round and was slowly walking back towards the corridor she had just come from. Back towards what was supposed to be an empty corridor.

Probably a small piece of armour falling to the ground, thought Harry to himself. He'd knocked it slightly when getting out of that dark alcove and a bit had most likely come loose.

The screen followed the Ravenclaw witch's progress as she walked quickly back to the previous corridor. It was deserted. The suit of armour was perfectly intact. Nothing seemed out of place.

The Indian witch shook her head before sighing. "You're going mad, Padma," she muttered just loud enough for Harry to hear before turning round to make her way back to the next passageway.

In the corner of the screen, just for a second, Harry thought he caught a glimpse of something. But when he looked again he saw nothing unusual. He frowned at the screen before looking down at his watch; the time was up.

Jumping out of the chair, he walked across the room and opened the door. "It looks like you've lost-"

"_Stupefy!_"

The last thing Harry saw was a thin beam of red light rushing towards him and Padma's smile of triumph.

He saw the same smile as he was forced back into consciousness. "You were saying?" said the Ravenclaw witch who was leaning over him.

"I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted-" Padma's smile widened showing more of her pearly white teeth "-that I've won and that you owe me two Sugar Quills." He clambered up from the floor and Padma did likewise only with a lot more grace despite – or maybe because of – the skirt she was wearing.

She gave him a pitying look that looked at odds with the mischievous glint in her dark eyes. "I think that drop to the ground must have muddled your memory. What you were _really_ going to say is that you surrender. You realised that you could never have possiblybeaten me and so decided to give up." Harry tried to interrupt but she continued on regardless. "There's no need to admit it, I understand entirely the need to save face. The Boy Who Lived defeated by little old me; we both know you could never live it down and this was the only way to accept defeat gracefully."

Harry stared at her. Padma stared back, her lips twitching as she tried to stop herself from laughing. "A noble decision," she choked out. Harry lifted an eyebrow. "Truly, truly courageous." She just managed to force that out before she began to laugh.

"And I think that someone owes me two Sugar Quills," said Harry as she stopped laughing.

She looked at him innocently. "But would you really deprive a girl of her Sugar Quills?"

"Are you trying to make me feel guilty?"

"Is it working?"

"No."

"Damn!" But her eyes were sparkling and her lips were stretched into a smile.

She looked around the room as though remembering that this was where he had been hiding. "So what exactly is this room? I've never seen it before. Not that I really venture up to the seventh floor."

"Not even to see Parvati?" The Gryffindor common room was also on the seventh floor.

Padma wrinkled her nose slightly. "I used to, but now she's got Lavender and I've got my friends. We're still pretty close and everything but we've got different personalities and we're in to different things. Besides, Lavender isn't exactly fond of me and it doesn't help that I think Divination is a brainless subject taught by a certain batty charlatan. No offence or anything."

Harry laughed. "Well I agree with you entirely on the second point, but how come Lavender doesn't like you? Didn't you say that you could have gone to Lavender's for Christmas?"

"It's just a feeling I get," she said was a small shrug. "She's never said anything but I always feel awkward when I want to talk to Parvati and she's around. And now I sound really silly."

"Not as silly as Trelawney," Harry quickly reassured as he took in her slightly downcast expression.

"Well, thank Merlin for that. Anyway," she said, deftly changing the topic, "you never answered my question: what is this room?"

Harry shrugged. "A hidden one?"

"Not quite what I meant," she said with a quirk of the lips as she moved to look around the rather sparse room. Her eyes then became fixed on the screen showing the view outside the door. "Is that a television?"

That took him by surprise. "You know what a television is?"

"I do Muggle Studies," she said in explanation. "I've never seen a real one, though; magic interferes with electricity so Professor Burbage never brings in any electrical devices to show us. I wonder how this one's working."

"I don't think that it's run by electricity." He then went on to explain the room's changing appearance and how it seemed to be triggered by thoughts. He gestured to the open-faced book lying on the desk to illustrate his point.

The pretty Ravenclaw made a small humming sound. "This could be fun."

Harry then noticed what had just appeared in the room. "A trampoline?" he inquired with a raised brow.

"A trampoline," agreed Padma, flashing him a grin. "I always wanted one, but Mum always vetoed it. That and I'm a bit too old to jump about in public."

"But not in front of me?" he asked as she carefully climbed onto the large, blue trampoline after removing her shoes.

"Nope," she said, wrinkling her nose up slightly. She then grew a bit more serious. "You don't mind, do you?"

Harry shook his head. "Not at all." As fun as the trampoline looked, he was more interested in an idea that had been slowly forming in his head.

She smiled at him winningly as she began to jump, one hand self-consciously making sure that her skirt didn't flare up. She beamed at him and Harry once again realised exactly why she was considered one of the prettiest girls in the year.

Taking his eyes off Padma, he meandered over to the armchair and plopped himself down. The screen in front of him was still showing the deserted corridor outside of the room. Time to test his hypothesis.

Focusing on the Gryffindor common room his eyes involuntarily closed. When he opened them again he grimaced slightly as he realised that the room had changed into a replica of his house's common room with a rather out-of-place trampoline in the centre.

Continuing to bounce up and down on the trampoline, Padma laughed at him. "Be more specific," she told him, obviously catching on to what he was attempting.

Flushing slightly in acute embarrassment, Harry concentrated again. This time he was met with more success as the room reverted to its previous appearance only with the screen showing a view of the Gryffindor common room. It was devoid of life which told Harry that his two best friends were still out on their wanderings doing whatever it was that they did without him present. Argue, most like.

Putting thoughts of Ron and Hermione to one side, he instead flitted away the late afternoon checking out just what this hidden room could do. By the time he realised that they had missed dinner he had a three dimensional reproduction of Hogwarts revealing every single hidden pathway, trap door and secret room littered throughout the castle. The detailed layout was displayed on the large screen reminding Harry of something from a movie.

"Look, there's where we came in back in first year," said Padma who had abandoned her trampoline and was curiously inspecting the plan. "I don't think I've ever been as nervous in my life as I was then. I kept wishing that I'd been called Parvati instead so I would get to go second. Seems so long ago, now."

"Yeah," agreed Harry absent-mindedly as his thoughts drifted to how life had changed since then. How life had changed since Hagrid had burst through that door on that unknown island. It felt more like a lifetime ago than just over four years.

"More importantly I've found the kitchens," said Harry pointing to the large room situated directly below the Great Hall. "We've sort of missed dinner so I figured that maybe we ought to make a stop-off there to grab some food. Those house-elves didn't seem to mind giving us food a few days ago."

"I hope so," said Padma. "I'm starving."

The rather enthusiastic greeting they received from the house-elves removed any doubt that they would have to go without food as they entered the high-ceilinged room. The strange little creatures hurried them inside the kitchen.

Harry was gazing around the room with its brass pots and pans lining the stone walls when a recognisable voice called out to him from just behind the great brick fireplace at the opposite end of the room.

"Harry Potter, sir! _Harry Potter!_" The wind was knocked out of the young wizard as a small, squealing elf hurtled into him.

"D-Dobby?" gasped Harry as the elf began to hug him so tightly he thought his ribs might break.

Enormous, green, tennis-ball-shaped eyes brimming with tears of happiness peered up at him. "Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir. Other elves tell Dobby that Harry Potter has come to kitchen but Dobby was not here. Dobby was most disappointed but now Harry Potter, sir, has returned. Harry Potter has come to see Dobby!"

Harry then remembered Padma. "Dobby?"

Dobby let go of him and stepped back slightly. He looked much like Harry remembered him from the pencil-shaped nose to the bat-like ears that were now mainly hidden by what appeared to be a tea-cosy decorated with badges.

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir?"

"This is Padma," said Harry, gesturing to the Ravenclaw witch who was watching them with a hesitant smile. "And Padma, this is Dobby."

Padma bent down to Dobby's level. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dobby," she said, holding out her hand for the elf to shake.

It was too much for Dobby and he burst into tears.

Padma looked to Harry with a worried look. "Did I say something wrong?"

Harry shook his head. "Don't worry about it; he does that quite a bit."

She nodded but still looked a bit unsure as she stood back up.

Eventually Dobby regained control of himself and wouldn't stop praising Padma for her kindness until she grew so embarrassed that Harry distracted Dobby with questions of his freed status. It must have looked a strange scene, Harry thought to himself, as the three of them sat on one of the large wooden tables that mimicked the Great Hall in their set-up. As they ate their late dinner they listened to Dobby's life as a free elf.

"Dobby," said Harry as the other elves, all of whom were giving Dobby a wide-berth, cleared away their empty plates, "do you know anything about a dead train driver?"

"Dobby has only been at Hogwarts for two months. And Harry Potter should not ask about such things. Unnatural death." Dobby then started to quiver all over, horror-struck by what he'd said. He began to pound his head against the table surface, squealing, "_Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!_"

Harry grabbed him by his horse-patterned tie and pulled him away from the table. "I'm sorry I asked," he said.

"House-elves sees too much," Dobby told him rather ominously and it wasn't soon after that Harry and Padma left the kitchen and the lingering smell of stale cabbage.

Harry was still pondering what Dobby had said as they ambled along the corridors on their way back to their respective common rooms. He was glad that Padma hadn't asked him to explain about the train conductor since it was one thing to tell his suspicions to Ron and Hermione and another thing altogether to mention them to the pretty Indian witch.

"Well, Dobby seems to like you a lot," said Padma, knocking him out of his train of thought.

"Hmm?"

"He's rather..." she paused, obviously trying to think of the right word to try and describe the free house-elf.

"Odd," supplied Harry.

Padma grinned. "I was going to say quirky, actually, but I suppose 'odd' covers it. I thought he looked rather sweet with that tea-cosy on his head."

Harry shot her a sceptical look. The word 'sweet' never sprung to his mind when he thought of Dobby. He personally thought the description of 'disturbed, homicidal house-elf' was rather more fitting, even if Dobby's intentions had been in the right place.

All too soon they reached the corridor where they were to part ways. "Remember you owe me two Sugar Quills," said Harry wishing to drag out the moment for just a bit longer.

"I'll bring them to breakfast tomorrow. I promise."

The both of them stood facing each other, not really saying anything.

"I guess I better go and find out what Ron and Hermione have been doing today," said Harry, unconsciously pushing a hand through his messy head of hair. "Doubt it'll have been as interesting as our day."

"You know I don't mind if you want them to join us. They are your best friends and I really don't mind." Her dark, almond-shaped eyes looked at him in sincerity. "You've not really had a chance to spend time with them with me around all the time. I feel a bit guilty."

Harry shook his head slightly. "Don't feel guilty. It's nice to get away from their bickering, to be honest." He just wished his friends would tell him _why_ they seemed to be ignoring him.

"But really, I don't mind if you do want to spend some time with your friends."

He rolled his eyes at her. "And I'm trying to tell you that I consider us friends."

Padma beamed at him before asking with a coy look: "Does this mean I get to keep my Sugar Quills?"

Harry laughed at her and, feeling rather more light-hearted, bid her goodnight.

His joyful mood lasted until he reached the fourth year boys' dormitory. It evaporated rather suddenly as he opened the door and found Ron rummaging through his trunk.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Ron turned to look at him. "There you are!"

"Why the hell are you looking through my trunk?" He took a few steps closer.

"Just looking for the map."

"What do you want the map for?" It came out a bit more harshly than Harry intended.

Ron gave him a strange look. "What's the big deal – you've never minded before. What's up with you? "

Harry waved him off. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong with me."

"The world doesn't revolve around you, you know. We have lives, too."

"What? What the hell are you talking about? You know, just forget it, OK? I'm going to bed." Determined to let the matter drop, Harry flopped onto his four-poster bed and drew the curtains closed.

"You really do believe the world revolves around you, don't you?" came Ron's voice floating passed the crimson drapes.

"I said forget it, Ron. I don't really want to talk to you right now. Not when you're like this."

The curtains were abruptly shoved open. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Look, I've got a bit of a headache starting and I really don't want to get into an argument with you right now. Why don't you just go argue with Hermione and leave me in peace?" And then in a mutter he couldn't help but add, "Because it's not like you've wanted my company in the last few days."

"Oh, so that's what this is all about! You really do think you're the be-all and end-all, don't you!"

Propping himself up on his bed, Harry looked at him in shock. "No I don't! How can you even think that?"

"But it's true, isn't it – you think you're the only one who's got problems! But you're wrong; there are other people out there with just as many problems as you."

Yeah, since there were so many people out there being targeted by Voldemort on an almost yearly basis, thought Harry to himself. He would never say anything like that out loud, though.

"It's always been about you, but this time it isn't and you can't stand it," continued Ron.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Hermione," said Ron, his tone implying that Harry ought to know what he was referring to.

Harry still had no idea what Ron was on about. "What about Hermione?"

"Well I suppose you were sort of unconscious at the time."

"Unconscious?" He was completely lost.

Ron was looking at him closely, as though he was trying to determine something. Then, in a quieter, almost disbelieving tone: "You really have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Harry continued to look at him blankly.

"Hermione's still pretty messed up over the World Cup," said Ron finally, lowering himself onto his own bed.

"What?"

Ron sighed; for a moment he looked much older than his fourteen years. "You probably don't really remember it – you were pretty out of it at the time – but we had to leave those Death Eaters behind in the woods."

As Ron continued to speak about what had happened that night so many months ago Harry recalled flashes from that time in the woods. A fiery orange haze filling the skyline. An urgent dash through the undergrowth. A decision to condemn two Death Eaters to death.

"There was nothing else we could do; we barely made it out of there ourselves. But Hermione's still all messed up about it. I keep telling her there was nothing she could have done, but try convincing Hermione of that."

"Oh," said Harry.

Ron shot him a wry grin. "Yeah, 'oh' just about covers it. That's usually what I end up saying whenever she brings up another thing which she 'should have done'.

"I know we did the right thing but I guess it's a bit of a girl thing. You know, getting all emotional about everything." Harry seemed to recall that it was actually that other girl who had suggested leaving the Death Eaters behind in the first place, but he decided not to say anything.

"Of course the whole thing's been hushed up by the Ministry. We were interviewed by the Aurors when you were at St. Mungo's but none of it was ever published. Hermione thinks that girl and her brother must have some big connections or something."

"Oh," said Harry again, finally understanding why his two best friends kept wandering off together.

"But don't tell Hermione I told you about all this. She sort of doesn't want you to know. Don't really know why," he said with a shrug. "But it'd be great if you could sort of not mention this. I shouldn't have brought it up in the first place. Only, well... you know."

"Sure thing," agreed Harry quickly. "And we're OK, right?"

"Yeah, Harry; we're OK."

Harry nodded at that and once again drew his curtains closed. He was glad that his friendship with Ron was still present but it somehow seemed less strong than it had only a few hours ago. Some of Ron's words ran through his head and Harry wondered if that's what Ron really thought of him – attention-seeking and arrogant enough to believe that everything revolved him. Is that how people see me, Harry wondered, as some big-headed git who only cares about himself?

No, decided Harry to himself; I'm not like that at all. And, he thought with some reluctance, Ron can't know me as well as I thought if he thinks I'm like that. Feeling almost traitorous at the thought, Harry pushed it to the back of his mind and instead focused on reading the book he'd removed from the strange, hidden room.

000

As the days to Christmas dwindled down Harry found himself caught up in the holiday spirit. He and Padma continued their explorations and Ron and Hermione continued their disappearing acts. Harry found, though, that he didn't mind his best friends' desertion much anymore.

The election results had reached Hogwarts announcing Amelia Bones's victory. The photo gracing the front of the Daily Prophet showed the new Minister of Magic smiling broadly with a beaming Susan Bones standing to her side.

"I hope she replaces Binns," said Padma after they read the news at breakfast one morning.

"I'm more hoping for Trelawney to be kicked out. We're coving planetary movements next and already I'm wondering how she'll tie it in to me dying horribly."

Padma gave him a commiserating look. "She can't be that bad."

"Oh yes she is. How about you and Parvati swap for a lesson and you can see just how bad she really is," he suggested.

She winkled her nose slightly. "I think I'm going to have to pass on that, lovely as it sounds. Besides, Trelawney might See that I'm not really Parvati."

Harry snorted. "Coward."

"I prefer to think of it as self-preservation. Preserving my brain cells, that is." She grinned at him impishly and Harry couldn't help but grin back at her.

But soon the topic of politics was forgotten as they chased each other through the corridors or fought in the snow that littered the castle's grounds. Harry even found himself reading up on spells to counter-act Padma's vast array of magic. Somehow it didn't seem like learning when he practised new spells for the sole purpose of trying to beat the pretty Ravenclaw.

The days seemed to fly by in a whirl and Harry could barely believe it when Christmas Day dawned. He had been startled awake by Dobby looming over him and had quickly unearthed an old, mould pair of Uncle Vernon's socks to give to the elf.

He and Ron had been joined shortly afterwards by Hermione. After quickly unwrapping all their presents the three of them made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

The four house tables and the teachers' table had disappeared and in their place was a single wooden table. Only a few staff members were up and of the other five students staying at Hogwarts for Christmas only Padma was present.

A dart of dread lodged itself straight into his heart as he spotted Padma waving to him from the table. He hadn't brought her a present. What was worse was the neatly wrapped up gift lying innocently on the table in front of her.

"Bugger."

Padma didn't seem upset at the loss of a present, though. "I didn't really expect one, to be honest. So please don't feel bad about it. Anyway, I've only got you something small. It's hardly anything, really."

It was in fact a box of chocoballs – smooth chocolate spheres filled with strawberry mousse and clotted cream. Harry wasn't a particular fan of chocoballs (there was something about mixing chocolate and fruit that seemed unnatural) but he ate one in front of her with a smile.

"Thanks," said he. "You really shouldn't have bothered, though."

"We're friends," was all she said in explanation. For her, Harry realised, it was as simple as that.

The rest of the morning was spent outside in the white expanse that surrounded the rambling stone castle. Only Hermione decided not to join in and merely watch as Padma and Harry ganged up on Ron.

"I only wish snow didn't have to be so cold," said Padma as the four of them trudged back into the warmth of the castle. Her dark red winter hat had slipped sideways and was now perched on her head at a rather rakish angle.

Hermione sniffed. "Snow has to be cold since it's made from frozen water. If it was warm it would just melt."

Harry rolled his eyes at Padma. She nudged him good-naturedly in return, grinning as they made their way into the Great Hall.

After a magnificent Christmas lunch the quartet split up. Ron and Hermione made their excuses and left Harry and Padma by themselves.

"Do your friends not like me?" Padma asked him. She was gazing at the corridor which Hermione and Ron had just disappeared down.

"Nah, it's nothing to do with you," he reassured. "They just want to talk to each other."

Padma looked curious. "Are they going out or something?"

"No idea," he said honestly. The suggestion took him by surprise. Ron and Hermione? Together? It defied all logic. "Well, if they are I'm sure they'll end up killing each other. All they ever do is argue.

"Anyway, since I didn't get you a present-"

"Don't worry about it. Really, it's fine," she interjected quickly.

"Well I feel bad about it so instead I'm going to show you a common room that you've never seen before."

Padma bit down on her lip. "I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything, but I've sort of seen the Gryffindor common room before. Sorry."

"You mean to tell me that you're actually entered the sacred realm of the Gryffindors?" he said in disbelief.

"Sorry. Identical twin sister, you know."

Harry grinned at her. "I'm only joking. I actually thought we should check out the Slytherin common room."

At her slightly puzzled look he brought out the Marauder's Map. He had been considering showing her the map for some time but had hesitated on the grounds of not knowing her that well. After spending the last fortnight almost exclusively with her, though, he thought that he knew her well enough to trust her. But he still didn't let her hear the password.

"If you look, the only Slytherin here is on the second floor." He pointed to a dot labelled 'Emily Gerard'. "So how about it? Let's go check out the common room. Last time I didn't really get much of a look around."

"Last time?"

"Long story. I didn't even have to sneak in that time. Now, are you coming?"

Padma looked at him with a slightly unsure expression. "We won't get into trouble, will we?"

"'Course we won't. Besides, no one's going to see us. Come on, Padma," he cajoled, holding out his free hand to her.

She took it in her own and they shared a grin. "I hope I don't regret this."

He tugged her down the stone staircase leading to the dungeons. They meandered through the twisting labyrinth of passages. Each stretch of corridor looked identical to the last and only the map kept them from losing their way until at last they drew up to a blank stone wall.

Padma was looking at him inquisitively but Harry instead focused on the map where a speech-bubble had formed next to the dot labelled 'Harry Potter'. It wasn't until Harry saw the speech-bubble that he thought about the possibility of the map not revealing the password.

"_Cruentis manibus_," said Harry and the pair watched as the stone wall opened to reveal the Slytherin common room.

The low-ceilinged, dungeon-like room glowed with dim pools of green light emanating from lamps hanging mid-air. Slotted into the wall in small alcoves were skulls of varying size. Dominating the room was an elaborate fireplace with snake motifs carved into the wooden frame. Green, high-backed chairs were scattered throughout the room in small clumps.

"It's a bit depressing, isn't it," commented Padma as they walked further into the room.

"Morbid, more like. Look at this," he was pointing to a small wooden plaque positioned just below one of the skulls. He read: "Henry Abbott, conquest of Edmund Arkendale – night offers cover to all manner of deeds."

Padma looked horrified. "I'm glad I'm not in Slytherin. Imagine having to see this every day. It's horrible."

"Here's another one: A favour for a favour, old friend." After the words there was a strange mark. It looked like a small sphere poking out from behind a curved sliver of the moon. Harry became even more disturbed when he noticed the small splotches of dried blood still clinging to the plaque.

Looking around further, Harry noticed two doors branching off the common room. He looked down at his map wondering whether his father and his friends had mapped out the entire complex only to curse. The single dot labelled Emily Gerard was approaching the common room.

"Padma! Padma we need to hide!"

She spun round to face him, her long plait flicking forwards. "What?"

"Gerard's coming towards us!"

"Who?"

"The Slytherin staying here – you know, the one who's useless at Quidditch. She's coming right towards us!" Feeling that she hadn't quite grasped what was going on yet, he yanked her towards the door closest to him.

It was only just after Harry managed to close the door that they heard the entrance to the common room creak open.

In the eerily green lighting of a winding, damn passageway, Harry gestured for Padma to remain silent. She nodded in agreement looking pensive.

The corridor split off into three different directions. It seemed the labyrinth of the dungeons spread into Slytherin territory.

The sound of muffled voices drifted towards them from the common room itself.

Sharing confused looks – wasn't there only one person in there? – Harry pressed his ear against the door. He was only able to make out small parts of the conversation.

"...Slytherin...not changed much..." It was a man's voice.

Shifting slightly, he unfolded the map looking at the Slytherin common room. Three dots were present – Gerard's, Padma's and his. Was the map malfunctioning?

He placed his ear back against the door, listening even more intently.

"... beautiful child..."

"... hardly a child."

The sound of footsteps over the stone floor resounded through the door. Padma's hand wormed its way into his as they shared worried looks. It would be so easy for those footsteps to approach the door where they were standing.

Another door slammed shut and the relief was palpable. Padma half-collapsed against him. "That was close."

"Yeah," said Harry distractedly. His mind was focused on the Marauder's Map.

"_The map never lies."_

Professor Lupin's words flashed through his mind and Harry realised that there were only three people alive who could tell him why a person didn't appear on the map.

Later that night he sat on his bed and began to write.

_Dear Sirius..._


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I still own zilch

Author's Note: Many thanks to those who reviewed and an enormous thank you to Japanese Jew who flicked through this chapter for mistakes even though that's not what you meant - sorry. Anyway, I passed my exams so I don't have to resit but I did sort of get a job, thus why this is out later than expected. But now on to the chapter where I felt it was time to seal up a certain plot point.

Chapter Ten

_Thanks for the penknife. My cousin Dudley once had a normal one and I've always sort of wanted one. I know Dudley would be jealous if he knew what it could do, but he would probably end up breaking it. But it's a really great gift and I carry it around with me all the time now._

_Sorry I haven't written in a while. The teachers piled on tons of work before Christmas and Quidditch practice took up lots of time. We won, by the way. Hopefully we'll manage to win the Quidditch Cup again this year. We're up against Hufflepuff next but we've got a pretty good team and I think we can do it. I'm just hoping that Angelina, our new captain, doesn't exhaust us too much with practices._

_I was also wondering about something. I think there might be something wrong with the Marauder's Map. You see the map only showed up one person when we heard two people talking. Is there any reason why the map wouldn't show someone up? We're a bit confused by it. I was also wondering how you can add rooms to the map since I found this room that isn't shown and wanted to add it only I'm not sure how. Do you have any suggestions?_

_I hope you're safe wherever you are. And say hi to Buckbeak for me. I think Hagrid misses him but he's happy that he's away from the Ministry. _

_Stay safe,_

_Harry_

_P.s. I hope you like the food I sent. I tried to get stuff which would last for quite a while but I was a bit unsure on some bits. I did look up a food-preserving charm but I'm not sure whether it worked or not. _

_P.p.s (or is it p.s.s.?) I sent this with a Hogwarts owl since Hegwig, my owl, is a bit distinctive. I told the owl to wait for you to reply, so hopefully he will._

Sirius put down the letter and untied the package. His lips twisted into what would have been a smile on a different face. He ripped open the packaging and barked a laugh as he viewed the goods

His godson had included an assortment of foods ranging from Honeydukes chocolate to a rather well preserved cooked chicken. There was some fruit squeezed in and some bread as well as a slab of cheese. The preservation charms had only failed the salmon which was emitting a rather disgusting pong.

Sirius quickly chucked the offending fish in Buckbeak's direction. The Hippogriff eyed the rest of the food stuffs suspiciously but still gobbled down the rotten salmon. The proud creature snorted his disgust at such a paltry meal but Sirius wasn't about to give up anything else to the Hippogriff.

The unkempt convict feasted on the chicken, ripping bits off with his hands, tearing into the dead bird with abandon. It was greater fare than the diet of rats he'd lived on for the last month or so. Grimly he wondered what his old etiquette teacher, a certain Madame Beaufort, would say if she could see him now. Probably have a fit and send a barrage of stinging hexes his way, he thought to himself as he managed to recall Madame Beaufort's primary method of discipline. It was so much easier to dredge up unpleasant memories.

"I wonder what's wrong with the map," said a man's voice as Sirius tucked into his feast. "We made it to show everyone."

Sirius grunted and continued to eat. His eyes remained firmly fixed on the cold meat.

"Ah, so you're back to ignoring me. I feel like I should be offended."

"You're not real," said Sirius in a choked voice, his eyes still glued to the chicken he continued to devour.

In the background Buckbeak whined. Whether he was concerned for his master or just pining for more food was hard to decide.

"That's hardly the point." The voice was dismissive, as though the fact that he was a hallucination was insignificant. "Aren't you supposed to treat the dead with a little respect."

Sirius let out a derisive laugh. His tangled mane of black hair fell in straggly knots around his face, briefly covering his eyes as he slowly turned his head to look at the apparition. "The dead are supposed to stay dead."

In the dim lighting of the cave Sirius could still make out a boyish grin and a pair of bemused eyes lurking behind a pair of wide-brimmed glasses. "I think I'm detecting a little bit of ghostism. Sir Nick wouldn't be too impressed with you."

Sirius's face crumpled and he quickly averted his eyes away from the image of his grinning best friend. His grinning, dead best friend. "Why won't you leave me alone?" he asked softly.

"But I'm not really here, Padfoot. I'm just a projection from your mind in the form of James Potter. Make that _the_ James Potter; I'm pretty famous nowadays."

"I was wrong," said Sirius with a short barking laugh. "Azkaban did send me mad. Only I've gone bonkers after leaving that hellhole."

"You always liked to be different," said the apparition helpfully.

Sirius snarled. "You're not helping."

"Actually, I think I am. I'm your defence mechanism come alive to stop you from going stark-raving mad. But really, no thanks are needed; I have nothing better to do."

Buckbeak was starting to look at him in concern. The fierce intelligence that burned behind the Hippogriff's orange eyes understood that something wasn't right with his new master.

"Strangely, I always thought that talking to oneself was a sign of madness. Hallucinating your dead best friend must be pretty high up on the list for those needing to be committed!"

"Don't talk about being committed." James's voice had turned serious.

"Sorry, I forgot about your great uncle." Sirius then seemed to realise that he was apologising to, well, himself and he shook his head in dismay, letting his shaggy locks fall in front of his eyes.

"Don't worry about it," waved off James. "Great-Uncle Richard died years ago. I think it was the best thing for everyone in the end.

"But getting back to the map and my son. What do you think's the problem? It's possible that it's malfunctioning but that would mean other things should be going wrong."

Coming to the conclusion that he might as well just accept James's presence, he sighed deeply before replying. "We put in safeguards to avoid tampering and the map never lies. . . Harry was probably just imagining things."

James laughed. "Says the man who's imagining his dead best friend. I'm inclined to believe that Harry hasn't lost it, unlike some."

"Well, if Harry wasn't imagining things and the map is functioning perfectly then there must be another solution. What doesn't show up on the map?"

It was hard thinking back to those Hogwarts days. So hard to recall those fun times when he could escape his ever disapproving family and run wild with his three friends. The days before the war, before the parting of ways, before the betrayal, before James died. . .

"Inanimate objects, so I suppose if someone charmed something to speak. . . Animals don't show up except for Animagi. Remember – we added that feature after that run in with McGonagall. What else. . .?" James rapped his fingers against his legs as he tried to think. "We didn't bother with the ghosts since we couldn't figure out how to make something dead show up. Oh, and what about house-elves; their magic resisted the tracking charms somehow. And don't forget the portraits since by that point we were pretty fed up with the whole thing and only added certain statues and the like where there were secret passageways. There's quite a few things we didn't include when you think about it."

Sirius was already noting down all the suggestions on the back of the letter with a Self-Inking Quill he'd swiped from his brief stint in Flitwick's office. He added on a few pleasantries and a quick thank you for the food before folding it and tying it to the eagle owl who stared at him warily with amber eyes.

He watched as the owl beat its wings and took flight. As soon as it departed from the cave Sirius turned to where James was standing, saying, "I suppose. . ." His voice trailed off as he realised that the apparition had gone.

Buckbeak was looking at him with sorrow filled eyes. Sirius couldn't help but reflect on how low he had fallen that a mere Hippogriff pitied him. In a sudden surge of anger he turned on the Hippogriff. "Oh yeah, well fuck you!"

The Hippogriff growled back at him before turning away and stalking further into the cave. Sirius guessed it was the Hippogriff equivalent of the middle finger.

In the background, trickles of water dripped down the off-white walls of the cavern filling the air with the sound of its rhythmic continuity. The horizontal gallery stretched deep into the rock with thin, fragile stalactites descending from the cave roof. A wintry chill echoed throughout the cavern, unaffected by the ineffectual warmth provided by the waning fire. But even then it was warmer than the seeping coldness found outside.

The sheltered enclosure suddenly felt like it was closing in on him. It was a feeling that continued to haunt him in whichever country he was in. A remnant, he presumed, of years spent in Azkaban; in his gloom-filled cell enclosed in shadows and filled with the unerring presence of Dementors.

He shuddered and quickly grabbed a nondescript canvas bag before making his way to the cave entrance. He only felt calm when he saw the sky. He gulped down the fresh air. Feeling slightly shaky still he gently lowered himself onto the ground and regretted it as soon as he felt the wetness of melted ice sink into his thick, second-hand cloak.

The view in front of him was desolate. A snow-covered landscape rolled out before him with occasional clumps of tall, spindly trees poking out of the whitened, mountainous scenery.

Fishing around in his cloak he felt relief as he grasped a long, thin rod of wood. A wand. Tugging it out of the numerous black folds he examined it as was his daily custom. A wizard, he had come to realise many, many years ago, was nothing without a wand.

The nine-and-three-quarter inch willow wand wasn't a perfect match unlike his original. He had acquired it through less than legal means with the help of Remus's borrowed wand. Remus hadn't questioned his wand's brief disappearance, nor the sudden appearance of the willow wand. Something he was grateful for.

He had left Remus's company a few days later. As they parted, he had hinted at lying low with a vague reference to South America. Remus had nodded and said it was a good idea; he always had believed the best of people.

Instead of lazing around under the glare of the South American sun he was spending his time trekking across Europe and becoming a connoisseur of caves. He didn't think this was what his mother had imagined for his Grand Tour of Europe.

Dismissing his thoughts as irrelevant to the goal, he delved into the canvas bag and removed the square box contained within. The mother of pearl inlay that covered the top was in mint condition while the silver outline and fittings had become tarnished from years of neglect. Where the large opening catch was found was the elaborately embellished Black seal.

Flicking the catch open, he carefully removed the thick glass bowl from the snug, red velvet interior. Carved in minute detail on the inside of the bowl were a collection of runes. It was a scrying bowl that allowed the user to see into the present and past. The future was only possible for those born with the gift of Sight; something that Sirius didn't have.

He had taken it from Grimmauld Place, the Black townhouse in London, just before leaving the country altogether. It was a family heirloom that had been passed into the Black dynasty as a dowry gift when Hermia Proudfoot had married into the Black lineage several centuries ago.

Sirius's grandmother had used the scrying bowl many times during her lifetime and he had numerous childhood memories of watching her spy on others in society with the use of the bowl. It was a dying art that had passed out of favour in the last century and so few remembered to cast anti-scrying wards and charms, thus allowing Melania Black to glimpse in on scenes thought private. Once she had died, however, the spying instrument had been left in storage until Sirius had come along.

While Sirius may have left many with the impression of laying low, he wasn't about to hide away while Wormtail walked free. He hadn't spent twelve years in hell to just forget about the person who'd put him there. The flame of vengeance that had burnt inside him through twelve years in Azkaban was now fully ablaze and demanded retribution.

Thus the reason why he was spending the winter encamped in a cave on the Apennines with only an irritable Hippogriff for company. It wasn't ideal but he had little choice: a high price had been placed upon his head and few would offer shelter to someone they believed to be the Dark Lord's second in command.

So far he had managed to track Wormtail's movements through Europe as the rat wormed his way from France, through the Swiss border and over the Alps into Italy. Wormtail had been sure to cast all kinds of anti-tracking charms over himself during his prolonged stay with the Weasley family but had obviously remained ignorant of the old art of scrying.

Sirius quickly gathered up some snow and ice from his chilly surroundings and placed it in the glass bowl. The bowl itself gave out some magical warmth that caused the frozen water to slowly melt into a puddle.

Judging the bowl to be filled enough for his purposes, Sirius pointed his wand at the scrying bowl. "_Video Peter Pettigrew!_" he intoned and a stream of silver sparks entered the bowl of water creating a controlled whirlpool that finally cleared to show an image.

A terrace street lined with houses that differed from white to a tea-stained wash in their outer facades. High above a few balconies poked out and shutters, some painted pale blue, others washed in white, enclosed windows to add an extra protection from the coldness evident in the flurries of tainted snow that had been brushed aside from the middle of the road. The street itself curved round on a sloped descent with two lanes of shallow steps coloured in a dark grey emerging from the lighter stone work.

The view was taken from a perspective significantly lower than a normal adult's. Peter remained in his rat form as he had done throughout his journey across central Europe.

The images glimpsed in the scrying bowl altered as Peter scurried through the maze of narrow paths and hidden alleyways, passing open courtyards, porticoes with high-reaching white columns and impressive renaissance constructs.

Sirius kept staring intently at the continuous stream of images desperately hoping to find something that would clue him in to where Peter was heading. Anything. . .

Then he saw it. In a haze of unfathomable Italian words dotted around he made out the place name – L'Aquila. Suddenly Sirius realised exactly where Wormtail was headed. The rush of elated understanding knocked his intense concentration and the images became more and more abstract until it became, once more, a clear puddle of water.

Sirius carefully packed the rune inscribed bowl back into its box and re-entered the cave. As he collected all signs of his brief stay he continued to push away Buckbeak's head as the Hippogriff followed him around the cavern in curiosity.

"We're going south, old chum," he told the Hippogriff, an almost manic grin stretched over his gaunt face. He chuckled to himself. "Shouldn't take too long to get there. I reckon no more than an hour."

Buckbeak seemed to understand that they were moving on and he started to back away from Sirius. He obviously knew what was soon to come.

Sirius realised this and gave the Hippogriff a pointed look. Shaking his head he swiftly attached all his belongings to the makeshift saddle he had made before leaving England.

Scanning around the dim cavern he concluded that all signs of his presence were gone. That settled, he swung himself on to Buckbeak's back and directed the Hippogriff towards the cave entrance.

Stroking Buckbeak's grey feathers in a calming, soothing motion with his left hand he aimed his wand at him with the other hand and cast a Disillusionment Charm silently. He then had to hold on tight as the Hippogriff's barely visible feathers bristled and he reared back in outrage.

Sirius made some shushing noises as he got the Hippogriff back under control. "Come on, boy, it's not that bad." As if to prove this point, he cast the same charm on his own person.

A few minutes later and they were in the air. The Hippogriff's long wingspan slashed through the sky as they flew, man and beast, over the snow covered mountains that reached out of the earth. The icy chill of the wind cut through Sirius's worn cloak as shards of ice bombarded him.

Screw it, he thought to himself and cast a Warming Charm, deciding that the risk of such detectable magic was worth it. Besides, it was safer casting while on the move since, while the magic could still be pinpointed, only the origin of the magic emission would be flagged-up.

Looking down onto the mass of white that littered the landscape below, he realised that finding the end locale could be a problem. Each Muggle settlement was the same as the next. Only one thing for it: "_Reperio Amiternum!_"

The willow wand twisted in his hand and Sirius nudged Buckbeak in the right position.

He was finally gaining on Wormtail. Revenge was on the cards and this time there was no Harry to spare the worthless rat's life. He didn't blame his godson from interfering but the knowledge that he had come so close to enacting retribution only for it to slip through his fingers gnawed on him.

There were some things in life that couldn't be forgiven. Turning Judas on your own friends was one of them.

Godric's Hollow, Halloween 1981. James's body buried in falling debris. Glassy brown eyes that would never again alight with laughter. Lily lying so still. Deep red hair splayed out in a halo. Pale white skin cold to the touch. A baby's shrieking cries for parents who would never again comfort him.

A low whine knocked him out of his memories as Buckbeak alerted him that he was gripping his feathers too tightly. He immediately loosened his grip and once again checked that they were heading in the right direction.

Located near to L'Aquila, Amiternum was a gateway into a small magical precinct known for shady deals and even shadier characters. The magical community had settled in during Roman times and, unlike the Muggles who had left it to fall into ruins, the magical population had remained and taken their business underground.

In many ways it was a smaller version of Britain's Knockturn Alley only rather more cut-throat in that Italy was a magical nation at war with itself. After several centuries the city states of Italy still fought against each other, though no one was sure as to why. The fighting had gradually slowed to a simmer over the last fifty or so years after a brief united front in aiding and abetting Grindlewald. It was now seen more as a bitter and oft-times hazardous rivalry but the occasional random deaths were still seen as normal instead of alarming.

The journey ended up taking just under forty minutes as Sirius steered Buckbeak into landing in an area just out of reach of Amiternum's Roman ruins. Instructing the Hippogriff to remain where he was, Sirius – still disillusioned - started to make his way towards the round stone-work structure of what had once been an amphitheatre.

The ruins were void of people. Not that that would have stopped Sirius.

The snow here was white and pristine with no sign of any footprints. Sirius felt relieved to have made it there before Wormtail until he realised that his own tracks had disappeared. Grunting softly to himself he changed into his dog form, feeling the Disillusionment Charm dissipate.

It wasn't something he wished to do. As Padfoot worries seemed to slip away, emotions dulled, thoughts became disjointed. But other senses were heightened. He could hear Buckbeak's whining in the distance. He could smell the scent of everyone who had passed here recently. He could smell Wormtail's scent.

Like a dog going wild for a bone, Padfoot chased the scent's trail with avid ferment. So close. So near. Soon.

The scent stopped at a slab of stone where amphitheatre seats would once have been situated. Wiping the slab clean of some snow, Padfoot looked down at the rune engraved into it. The part of Padfoot that was still Sirius knew it to be the rune designating an entrance and so he pressed his cold, black nose against the rune.

With a crushing, pressurised feeling not dissimilar to Apparation, Padfoot found himself in what the magical world thought of as Amiternum. He let out a slightly startled woof as he gazed around the underground structure.

The narrow cobbled-stone path twisted and turned with light provided by hanging balls of illumination and young boys guiding cloaked adults under lanterns swinging off long poles. Either side of the street were buildings squished together in a higgledy-piggledy fashion.

Cloaked figures, some hiding their faces under elaborate masks hurried on their way while a few sellers advertised their wares in the road. They shouted at each other in heated phrases, foreign and exotic, filling the lane as negotiating price became an art.

On one stall stood a hag. Her collection of bones was arranged in size order and a bowl filled with decayed teeth stood to one side. She licked her lips when she spotted Padfoot and smiled at him, revealing a toothless mouth with sore red gums.

Nearest to him was a run-down pub with withered flowers that had received one Rejuvenation Charm too many. One shutter was half pulled off from the wall and another was missing entirely. The heady mix of sweat, spilled alcohol and smoke enveloped the property. But in contrast to all this was the soft, lilting feminine voice that carried through the air in a soaring Italian aria.

While Padfoot's dog instincts begged him to explore the diverse aromas that filled the underground precinct Sirius restrained himself and instead sniffed out Wormtail's distinctive scent. Following the reclaimed smell he nudged open the door and entered the dilapidated pub.

The smells became overpowering inside. The voices deafening. But all that seemed irrelevant when he spotted the rat he had sought for resting under a nearby table occupied by three heavily cloaked figures.

Padfoot started to growl. His legs bent and he raced towards the now alarmed rat.

Wormtail started to flee, weaving his way across the pub's wooden floor. Padfoot followed, his large form knocking chairs aside in his pursuit.

Raised Italian voices yelled their fury as they were jostled by the large dog. More than one voice fearfully proclaimed the title of "Gramo" on Padfoot's black dog form. One witch started firing curses at him and soon others joined in forcing him to dodge from one side to the next.

Some curses connected with other witches and wizards and soon Padfoot was forgotten as the wizards took up arms against each other. Flashes of colour darted through the air in an uncoordinated symphony. Screams and cries of outrage rang out.

In the confusion Wormtail scurried to the door. Not willing to let the rat slip through his fingers again, Padfoot bounded after him. Just before leaving the premises Wormtail transformed and swiftly pluck a fallen wand from the floor with his pudgy fingers. Padfoot followed close behind, crashing through the wooden door, before he too transformed.

Peter's small watery eyes brimmed with fear. Visible beads of sweat trailed down his pasty face beneath thinning grey hair. "Sirius. . . please-"

A flash of black whipped through the air, halting Peter's pleas as he dodged behind the hag's stall. The toothless hag was looking slightly worried as her fingers edged nervously to her collection of bones. It seemed she had recognised the Entrail-Expelling Curse.

"Fool me once, Peter, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. _Expulso!_"

The wooden stall exploded. The bowl filled with teeth jumped into the air and scattered the decayed teeth over the cobblestoned street. Fragments of bone crashed to the floor in a series of thumps. The dishevelled hag screamed in outrage, Italian threats spewing from her mouth as she shook her fist at him.

A few passersby had stopped to look on. Some of the children gathered were cheering at the spectacle while parents tried to block them from view. To them, this was entertainment.

Peter was now using the hag as a human shield. Occasionally he sent an odd spell Sirius's way but all were blocked.

"_Duro!_"

While Peter was distracted by his wailing shield slowly turning into stone, Sirius silently transfigured three of the decaying teeth into mimics of his Animagus form. The process was far more tiring than he remember as he directed the three black dogs to devour Peter.

It was some heightened instinct that told Sirius to put up a shield. He was just in time as a flash of Expelliarmus-red hit him from behind.

Confident that the dogs would keep Peter occupied for a while, Sirius turned to see who else had attacked him. There were two men – one bulky and thickset, the other lanky and thin - and one woman whose main feature was a face half-ravaged with angry red burn marks. He recognised none of them.

"I don't have any quarrel with you."

The bulky one spoke in broken English. "You Sirius Black."

The three of them started to open fire, their spells remaining non-lethal as they launched an obvious attempt at capturing him if the number of incarcerating spells they sent his way was any indication. Someone wanted to claim the bounty on his head.

But he hadn't come this far to be stopped by some mercenaries. His wand spurted out a seemingly continuous stream of curses. The Skin-Flaying Curse, Disorientation Hexes, Eye Bludgeoners, Shields. . . Transfiguring the remaining teeth into a swarm of insects he animated them with the instruction to bite the three mercenaries.

Fighting against four people had never been the plan. He only wanted Peter dead. Peter who had somehow managed to kill one transfigured dog and put another one to sleep. The third dog had latched onto his arm and was refusing to let go. Colourless dog slobber mixed with blood glistened on his left sleeve. Swinging the arm around Peter continued to scream: "Get off! Get off!"

Peter suddenly seemed to realise that Sirius was once again focused on him. In a last ditch attempt to free himself from the teeth of the animated black dog he Apparated a few metres away with a loud "Pop".

The dog fell to the ground, an arm still caught in its mouth. A small boy of four or five watching from atop his father's shoulders clapped his hands in glee at the splinching.

Peter was looking at his lost arm in dismay. It seemed this, above everything else, worried him the most.

"Well last time all I got was a finger. I suppose an arm was the next logical step," said Sirius as he tugged the arm out from the hound's gaping jaw. He waved the arm in the air. "Hands off to you, Peter."

Understanding Peter enough to know what would come next, Sirius sent the Sponge-Knees Curse at him. It flew over the top of his rapidly shrinking body as Peter reverted to his rat form in an attempt to escape.

"No you don't," growled Sirius and bounded after him as Padfoot, arm in mouth.

Together they both reached the runic exit to the Muggle ruins.

The sudden glare of natural sunlight blinded him for a moment. The cold wetness of snow melted into his fur.

He returned to his human form. "_Animagum inverto!"_

Where a rat – now missing an entire leg – had been was now a man. The forced change sent him tripping over onto the snow covered ground.

His rat-like face peered at Sirius. His bald patch reflected some of the sun light as his watery eyes looked up at him from his fallen position. "Sirius. . . Padfoot. . ._ Stupefy!"_

"_Protego! Vincula! Expelliarmus!" _Peter's red stunner fizzled out at the shield's boundary and the rat Animagus found himself fettered in chains and missing a wand.

"_Reducto!"_

Sirius spun round, hoisting Peter's arm in protection. A splatter of blood squirted out in all direction with a mighty squelch as the top of the arm was blown apart. The spray of red left a stain on the white covered ground.

"That's my arm!"

It was the witch with the angry burn marks that had followed them over ground.

Sirius was fed up with this. Every time he got to Peter someone had to interfere. This time he would end it. But first he had to lose the single remaining mercenary. He wasn't in the mood for playing games anymore.

"_Confringo!" _

"_Avis!" _A flock of birds were blasted apart in a chirping scream of agony.

The woman seemed to get control of herself then as she let loose a quick succession of silent hexes that Sirius wasn't able to shield entirely. He couldn't help the grimace of pain as a large slice was taken out of his arm.

Well, two could play the silent-casting game.

It was only as she screamed out clasping her half-severed wand hand that Sirius realised how old the girl was. Seventeen at the most, by the looks of it.

"_Aduro!"_ She forced out the Cauterising Charm through gritted teeth. Her mouth twisted into a soundless scream as the wound forced itself shut. It wasn't healed by any means but it did reduce the pain, especially when she added a Numbing Charm.

"You're pretty young to be a mercenary," said Sirius, not inclined to fight someone so young.

The girl snarled at him, her straight black hair falling in mess either side of her face."_Oppugno!"_

A flock of conjured falcons started to attack him only to be knocked back with swipe of his wand. "Now you're not even trying," he taunted. Adrenaline pumped through him reminding him what it felt like to be alive.

Tears of frustration were starting to gather in the girl's pale blue eyes as she slashed her wand at him. "Die!" she shouted at him as flashing blue slashes flew towards him.

A conjured shield blocked the attack.

He was perfectly willing to leave the girl alone if he could have Peter. The girl was only a few years older than Harry. Not exactly the kind of person he wanted to hurt badly.

"_Discutio!"_

Her father, on the other hand. . . He deflected the curse and watched as it bounced into part of the amphitheatre remains, shattering the stone work.

He was getting tired. Perilously tired. He hadn't truly duelled in years. His muscles had atrophied to a large degree and his stamina was not what it once was. He couldn't last much longer.

The bulky man's eyes flicked between Sirius and his daughter. The resemblance between the two was only evident now that he looked past the girl's burn marks.

As the other wizard made to attack again a loud squawk sounded from the sky above. Buckbeak had arrived to save him.

The Hippogriff whose own Disillusionment Charm had worn off came into land, claws open, on the other wizard.

The sight of a large Hippogriff coming headlong towards him was enough to scare the man into action. With a small "Pop" the man Apparated out of the ruined amphitheatre with his daughter in tow.

Sirius couldn't help but let out a bark-like laugh as the Hippogriff, now his favourite creature in the world, trotted over to him. Buckbeak nuzzled his head against his, the Hippogriff's soft feathers warm to the touch.

"Good boy, Buckbeak," Sirius said as he stroked the spot between the Hippogriff's ears.

Leaning slightly on the Hippogriff he turned to face Peter. Only to find him gone. Instead a rat was hobbling away from the chains. The Reverse-Animagus Spell had worn out.

"Shouldn't be too difficult to catch a rat, now." James was back.

"No," agreed Sirius, aiming his wand.

But before he could form an incantation, Buckbeak trotted forward to where the rat was. In a move Sirius could never have predicted, the Hippogriff bent down and ate the rat. Only an erratic pink tail dangled from the Hippogriff's mouth before its movement ceased and the feathered beast sucked it up with a loud slurp.

Licking its lips at the unexpected meal, Buckbeak trotted back to a shell-shocked Sirius.

James turned to look at him. "I'd be careful, Sirius – he still looks hungry."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Author's Notes: A huge thanks to those who reviewed. I've just about managed to stick to my deadline, but I didn't manage to fit in everything I had planned into this chapter since it was going on too long. Oh, and a piece of advice to anyone thinking of making a soufflé – stick it in a largeish oven. I lost the top of my soufflé since it puffed up so much. It would have been perfect otherwise.

Chapter Eleven

With the end of the holidays looming, Harry and Padma had called an end to their exploring and had instead huddled up in the secret room they had found – now known as the Room of Requirements thanks to Dobby - as they hurried to finish last minute homework. Harry had found himself surprised at how quickly essays could be written without Ron's distracting commentary and Hermione's presence as a continual reminder that he needed to work. Even stranger had been the happenstance of being able to help Padma with her Muggle Studies assignment.

"I might just have to keep you around," she teased after he patiently explained what exactly a 'cinema' was.

He shrugged, slightly embarrassed. Jokingly, he said, "Well maybe we ought to do a trade off between Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies."

"Deal." Padma flashed him a smile, her dark eyes glinting beneath thick lashes.

But soon enough the empty hallways began to fill again as students returned for another term and the peaceful quiet that had pervaded Hogwarts over the Christmas period was shattered. The return to normal Hogwarts life seemed complete when, on the Sunday before lessons began, Padma returned to the Ravenclaw table for the evening feast.

"I think it's probably best if I sit with my housemates now that everyone's back," she said with some hesitance as they entered the Great Hall.

Harry nodded stiffly. "You're probably right."

"Well then, I better..."

"Yeah."

Nothing more was said between them and Padma slipped off to join her own house. Harry had been trying to ignore the fact that things might change once school restarted, but watching Padma chat away to her own friends brought home the fact that she had more friends than just him. Friends who she'd known for years instead of a few weeks.

It didn't help that his own best friends were both preoccupied with other things. Hermione looked like she hadn't been sleeping well and the beginnings of dark bags were forming under her eyes. All questions concerning her welfare had been dismissed with an increasingly snappy "I'm perfectly fine, thanks" and Harry had decided to leave well alone. Ron, on the other hand, seemed more pensive and quiet. While interactions between him and Ron weren't exactly strained, it often seemed as though Ron's mind was elsewhere when they spoke with only Quidditch inciting the red-head's usual enthusiasm.

Knowing the reason behind his friends' distant behaviour didn't help the ever-increasing feeling that they were growing apart. Harry was even startled to realise that he hadn't told Ron and Hermione about the problems with the Marauder's Map. As soon as he recognized this oversight he set out to confide in them, but the right moment never seemed to arise.

Lessons began on the Monday and, for the first time, Harry began to resent that in most lessons the different houses didn't seem to mix as students tended to sit next to their housemates almost exclusively. It meant that, despite sharing both Charms and Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws, Harry never got the chance to speak to Padma. Instead they exchanged looks and, in Padma's case, an apologetic smile, as they sat on opposite sides of the classroom while the professors droned on.

Talking after dinner also seemed impossible as Angelina had booked the pitch all that week for Quidditch practice. The shortened evenings of winter meant that they were outside as soon as dinner finished and only returned inside when it became too dark to see.

"We can't rest on our laurels," said Angelina with a zeal reminiscent of Oliver Wood at the end of a particularly bad practice on Friday evening. It was a freezing cold night and everyone except Angelina wanted to return to the warmth of the castle.

"Laurels! It's only Hufflepuff." Propping his shoulder against the wall of the store cupboard, Fred didn't look too impressed.

Angelina gave him a pointed look. "Need I remind you that Hufflepuff beat us last year?"

Harry felt himself shrink slightly as he remembered his failure to capture the Snitch. Quidditch was one of the only things that came naturally and he didn't like to dwell on past disappointments.

"Yeah, because a swarm of Dementors decided to play spectator. We all know that pretty-boy-Diggory doesn't stand a chance this time round." Fred then turned cajoling. "Come on, Angie, give us some slack. At this rate we'll all be too exhausted to play. That, and I think I'm developing frostbite."

Jason butted in then. "I've got to agree. I swamped enough with my NEWTs as it is."

Angelina glanced from one face to another. No one offered her any support and she sighed in defeat. "Fine then. I'll cut down on practices. But don't blame me if we lose."

"We won't," said George cheerfully.

"No, we'll just blame Harry."

"Thanks, guys."

Fred clapped him on the shoulder. "No thanks are necessary."

"I was being sarcastic."

"And I was humouring you."

Harry waved off Fred as the red-head attempted to pat him on the head. He was tired and not in the mood for the twins' teasing.

"Don't worry, Harry," said Katie good-naturedly, sidling up to him as they trudged through the crisp snow on their way back to the castle. "I won't blame you if we lose."

"Good to know."

Something in his voice must have warned her of his lack of humour since she then asked him if everything was OK.

"I'm fine. Just tired, really. I miss the holidays."

"Don't we all. I went skiing in the Alps with my parents and older sister. Dad somehow managed to break his wrist and, since everyone knew, Mum couldn't heal it without it seeming fishy. We were going Muggle, you see. Mum was pretty annoyed but I think Dad quite enjoyed sitting around in the lodge all day. But what about you?"

"I stayed at Hogwarts."

Katie mocked hitting herself on the head. "You told me that before. I bet it's different with everyone gone. Bit spooky if you ask me."

"Yeah," said Harry in slightly better humour. "By the end, I started wondering whether it was haunted."

She laughed at him as they stumbled into the Entrance Hall. "Well at least we can sleep in tomorrow. I'm planning on collapsing into bed and not getting up till at least eleven."

"Lucky you; I've still got Astronomy tonight in-" he checked his watch "-just over four hours. All I want to do is sleep."

She shook her head at him. "You can't complain; Fridays are the best day for Astronomy since it means you can sleep in the next day. I have it on Tuesday nights and then have to get up for Herbology first thing. You have it easy."

"Suppose," he shrugged as they unconsciously walked the quickest route to Gryffindor common room. "I think I'll have a quick nap and hope I don't fall asleep as Sinistra goes on about the lunar cycle or whatever the hell it is we're supposed to be learning about."

But despite catching two hours of sleep, Harry was still rather groggy when he climbed up the spiral staircase of the circular tower where Astronomy lessons were held. The rest of the fourth year Gryffindors didn't look any better off as contagious yawning spread through the group.

The Astronomy classroom was found at the east tower's zenith. A crenellated parapet surrounded the summit of the tower and a vaulted stone ceiling emerging from five points offered some protection from the elements. Telescopes jutted out of the battlements with two seats placed at each station along with a small, oak desk to write on.

The Ravenclaws they shared the class with were already present, though none of them had sat down. Instead their chatter filled up the cold room.

Professor Sinistra was trying, unsuccessfully, to settle the class. "Can everyone sit down now, please?"

Her softly-spoken request was easily ignored as the group of teenagers continued to talk amongst themselves. Hermione's pointed look at both Ron and Harry ensured their own silence as they drifted towards their usual spot.

"Look, I get that you're all tired, but the quicker we start, the quicker we finish." The young professor looked at them in growing frustration as only a few people actually made to sit down. The rest continued to talk, ignoring her entirely.

Harry himself slumped into his usual seat waiting for Neville, his Astronomy partner, to sit next to him. To his right sat Ron and Hermione. He was entertaining himself by watching a clueless Ron fiddle around with the telescope settings when someone gently tapped his shoulder.

He turned around.

"Hi," said Padma who was nibbling at her lower lip.

He smiled. "Hello."

"I hope you don't mind but I sort of asked Parvati if she'd pair with Neville. Is that alright?" Her finely shaped eyebrows were drawn together as she nervously awaited his response.

"That's great! I mean - of course that's fine." He couldn't help the smile that stretched across his face as Padma sat down on his left. But after a week of trying to talk to her, Harry now found that he couldn't think of anything to say; his mind was frustratingly blank of interesting things to talk about. Thankfully, Sinistra spared him the momentous task of speaking as she attempted to take control of the class.

"Right, I know I always say how much I don't like removing house points but if you lot don't sit down and be quiet I'm going to. This time I mean it."

Having been exposed to the same threat since first year they all knew how empty it was. But the class did move to settle down and Sinistra was finally able to take the class register.

Their task for the evening was to map out the seas on the Moon's surface. It was a rather tedious undertaking but it allowed everyone the chance to talk – something that Sinistra, while not fully approving, couldn't stop.

"I always feel a bit sorry for her," commented Padma after Seamus Finnigan amused the whole class with an imaginative tale explaining why he didn't have his homework on hand. Professor Sinistra was the only one not amused since even Hermione was hiding a grin at hearing Seamus's ludicrous story.

Harry shrugged. Sinistra was a soft touch compared to teachers like McGonagall and Snape, and more than once he'd foregone completing his star charts on the understanding that no detentions were about to be given out.

"But it's been rather hectic this week, hasn't it," said Padma as Harry focused the telescope.

"Yeah. Angelina booked up the Quidditch pitch all this week so we've been out there every night practising. She's getting a bit nervous about our game against Hufflepuff after-" he abruptly cut himself off deciding that he didn't want to remind Padma about the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match the year before.

"I was wondering why you always disappeared after dinner but I thought it was probably something like that."

Harry was stopped from replying by someone prodding his right arm. It was a wide-eyed Hermione. "Did you see that?" she asked them both, gesturing at the North Tower that was clearly visible from their position.

"See what?" Harry asked. The North Tower looked the same as always.

"You didn't see anything?"

"No." Behind her back, Ron was rolling his eyes at their bushy-haired friend.

Hermione turned to look at Padma. "Did you see it?"

"Sorry, I didn't see anything either." Padma was now looking at the nearby tower in concern.

Hermione heaved a sigh. She now looked confused and a touch unsure, her eyes still flickering towards the North Tower. "I was sure..."

"You're probably just tired," said Ron. Harry noticed that Ron was patting her hand in some form of reassurance but decided against commenting on it.

"You're right. I'm just imagining things." Deciding that she hadn't seen anything after all, Hermione turned back to noting down the areas on the Moon.

Harry and Padma exchanged bewildered looks before returning to their work. They continued chatting about inconsequential things and slowly the camaraderie they had shared over the holidays returned.

As the end of the lesson neared, Padma turned to him. A look of determination was planted on her features. "Before I forget, I wanted to ask you something."

Harry grinned. "Yes?"

"I know you're pretty busy with Quidditch and everything and if you can't come then I understand entirely. And don't feel obliged to come if you don't want to since I won't be offended or anything. But I think you might like to come because it's actually really fun even though I know some people think it's a waste of time and-"

"Padma," Harry interrupted softly. "What are you talking about?"

She looked baffled for a moment: her mouth slightly open and her eyes showing her confusion. Then she twigged. "Oh right, of course! You have no idea what I'm going on about, do you?"

Harry shook his head in confirmation of this fact. "Nope."

She gave a sheepish grin. "Sorry. What I was trying ask was: do you want to come to Charms Club? It's every Wednesday after dinner from six till seven and you get to learn all sorts of really interesting spells. And it's really fun and I think you'd enjoy it."

"Er, I don't really know if I'm free on Wednesdays," said Harry as he pushed his slipping glasses further up his nose. "Angelina said she'd cut back on Quidditch practices but I don't know whether I'll be free then."

As the smile on her face dimmed somewhat, Harry tried to reassure her. "But if I'm free I'd really like to come."

Her smile brightened once again. "Great! Just tell me if you're free and if you are we can meet up after dinner. You'll really enjoy it, I promise."

She looked like she was going to continue expounding on the joys of Charms Club when Sinistra called an end to the lesson.

"For homework," added the young professor as the rustling of bags being packed began, "I want you to complete the labelling of the Moon. If you do have any problems then come and see me, but if not I want it handed in by Wednesday morning at the latest. And if you didn't give in the essay on the lunar cycle then I expect to see it before dinner tomorrow or I will start handing out detentions. Is that clear, Mr Finnigan?"

"Crystal," said Seamus with a grin. "Though how I'll retrieve it from that Leprechaun by tomorrow is different kettle of fish. But I'll try my hardest for you, Professor."

Sinistra just sighed in exasperation. "One day I'm going to test you with a truth potion and then I might finally get the truth for once."

"But, Professor," said Seamus with a look of artful innocence, "what makes you think I'm lying?"

Even Sinistra laughed at that as she waved them away. The resounding reminder of "Before dinner tomorrow, Finnigan" followed the class as they climbed down the stone stairwell and eventually split off into their two respective houses, bidding each other goodnight.

Harry would barely remember the walk back to the Gryffindor tower as weariness swept over him. As soon as his head hit the pillow he was asleep.

However, a lifetime of early morning starts meant that he woke up before nine. Everyone else in his dorm was fast asleep, their scarlet curtains still drawn shut. But the usual snores that emanated from Neville's bed were strangely absent.

The Great Hall was also void of life when he went down for breakfast. There was only a scattering of students and several of the professors were absent.

Harry plonked himself down next to Alicia. The Chaser was one of the few students present that he knew relatively well.

"Morning," she yawned. Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and a speckle of sleep dusted her eyelashes.

"You look like you could do with some more sleep," said Harry as he helped himself to some toast.

Alicia grunted. "I wish. Morning detention."

"On a Saturday?"

"Was supposed to be on Thursday, but McGonagall let me change it to today so it didn't interfere with practice," she explained before yawning again.

"That's a point - do you know when Angelina's booked the pitch for next week?"

"No idea; I don't think Angie's got around to organising it yet. I know Diggory wasn't happy with us hogging the pitch all week so he'll probably make a fuss about booking the pitch for this week."

"Right, well you couldn't do me a favour and ask Angelina to keep Wednesday Quidditch-free, could you?"

"I'll ask her, but no guarantees. Why – do you have a detention then?"

"Nah," said Harry, beginning to get a bit embarrassed though he couldn't rationalise as to why. "I wanted to go to Charms Club, is all."

Alicia gave him a sideways glance. "Charms Club? I didn't realise you were a member."

"I'm not. It's just someone asked me to go and well... you know."

"I didn't think anyone in your year went. From Gryffindor, at least." She looked at him in question.

"She's not in Gryffindor."

"She?" Alicia was looking at him fully now. "This just gets more and more interesting."

He started to feel his face warm up. "Don't you have a detention to go to?"

"I've still got a while," she told him without bothering to look at her watch. "So who is this girl who's not in Gryffindor and wants you to go to Charms Club?"

"You probably don't even know her," he tried to dismiss.

Alicia grinned at him. "I don't know; I happen to know quite a few people from other houses. Or are you going to force me to guess?"

Harry just glared at her.

"Well I'm going to guess Ravenclaw since you looked in that direction when you first came in. Am I close?"

"I really think you better go to your detention now."

She pouted as she made to get up. "You're no fun. But you are right in that I need to get going."

"Just remember to ask Angelina about Wednesday, will you?"

"Will do," she promised before bidding him goodbye as she finally walked off to her detention.

He hoped rather than believed that Alicia wouldn't mention their conversation to anyone else. But all hope was dispelled when Alicia and Angelina, with all too knowing expressions filling their faces, wished him well as he left the Great Hall after dinner on Wednesday.

Waiting in the Entrance Hall by the four giant hourglasses that showed the house point score were Padma and two others that he recognised as Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst.

Padma spotted him first. A smile stretched across her face and she hurriedly waved him over. "This is Mandy," she said gesturing to the girl standing next to her.

"Hi," said Mandy lifting a hand in greeting. She was taller than Padma by a few inches and had a slightly bigger build. Her mousy-brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail and freckles dusted her nose beneath hazel eyes.

"And Terry." The brown-haired boy nodded his greetings. He had a lanky frame where his body had yet to match the length of his arms and legs. A ready grin graced his face as he asked Padma whether she was going to introduce her new friend back.

"Stop being an idiot, Terry," said Mandy before turning to Harry. "I apologise in advance for Terry's idiocy. He's under some strange delusion that he's actually funny."

"Hey!" He looked to Padma for support.

She raised her hands. "I'm staying out of it."

"See what I have to put up with," sighed Terry melodramatically.

Mandy lifted her eyes heavenwards. "Come on, we better get going."

They walked in the opposite direction of the Great Hall, strolling along a corridor to classroom seven. No formal lessons were taught here and so a sense of abandonment lingered with a layer of dust touching the top of the wooden cupboards towards the back of the room.

A few others were already gathered there. Harry recognised Vicky Frobisher from the Quidditch try-outs and two other Gryffindors he knew by sight but couldn't name. Two seventh years and a small group of fifth years were also present. Looking at the house crests on each of the students' uniform he noticed that most of them were from Ravenclaw.

The four of them grabbed a row of seats and Harry found himself sitting between Padma and Terry. As they waited for Professor Flitwick to turn up Mandy began chatting to Padma and Harry found himself drawn into a conversation with Terry.

"Don't you think that it's a bit strange that despite being in the same year and sharing a few classes we've never spoken before?"

Harry shrugged. "Suppose so. I've never really thought about it."

"I hate introductions," said Terry in a swift change of subject. "If you screw them up it's almost impossible to retrieve the situation. One bad introduction can change your life forever. But on the other hand you can be introduced to someone, get on perfectly fine and then realise they're a total git. That's why I hate them; they give you this false impression that can last a lifetime."

"That reminds me of my aunt and uncle. They always plan out what they're going to say to people they're just meeting. I did ruin it for them once and I still don't think they've forgiven me."

"Accidental magic?"

"Nah; a pretty manic house-elf didn't want me to return to Hogwarts for second year and dropped a cake on this woman who was visiting. I was the one got blamed."

"I'm now going to have to show my Muggle-born ignorance and ask what a 'house-elf' is."

Harry tried his best to explain. It didn't help that the only house-elf he knew well was Dobby who was a bit of an original. "If you go down to the kitchens then you can see them. They're really helpful and are always willing to give out some food. The one with the tea cosy on his head is Dobby."

"Tea cosy?" repeated Terry with slightly raised eyebrows.

"I did say he was a bit manic."

Flitwick's entrance put an end to their conversation as everyone quietened down. The dwarf-sized professor bid them all a cheerful hello as he climbed onto his chair and then stood up on it.

"As many of you remember, before Christmas we started on localising different charms. We've already covered localising silencing charms and today I thought we'd take a more medicinal route and learn about numbing charms and, if we have time, maybe go over a few basic healing charms.

"Now who can remember what we add on to an incantation when we want to localise it to the feet? Yes, Padma?"

"_Pedes_."At her answer, Harry suddenly twigged why he could never hear her footsteps when they had hunted each other out over the holidays.

"Very good. And hands?"

A seventh year answered, "_Manus_."

"Arm?"

"_Bracchium_."

"Leg?"

"_Crurem_ for leg and _crures_ for legs, plural," said a seventh year girl wearing a pair of circular-framed glasses.

Flitwick beamed at them and clapped his hands together. "Capital! Now those are just a few specifications you can add. If you ever become a healer you have to learn far, far more. That's what you'll be looking forward to, Caitlin." He looked at the bespectacled seventh year who gave a small, embarrassed smile in return.

"Now can anyone think why localised charms are so useful?"

"They focus the spell so it has longer lasting effects."

"Yes, very good, Thomas. Anyone else?"

An idea was beginning to form in Harry's head but he didn't really wish to put his hand up. The rest of the group had also fallen silent.

"Anyone?" Flitwick peered around before his eyes fell on Harry. Slightly raised eyebrows showed the professor's surprise at his presence before he asked, "Any ideas, Harry?"

"Would it be harder to dispel?"

Flitwick beamed at him and Harry felt relief that it was unlikely he would have to answer any more questions. "Correct. Can you think why that would be?"

Damn. It was times like this that Harry wished Hermione was around to whisper the answer at him. But today he was on his own and was therefore forced to rely on his own brain. "Would it be because you would need a more specific counter-charm to remove the spell?"

Flitwick nodded at him. "Indeed you are correct. The universal counter-spell -_Finite Incantatem_ - won't work particularly well on a specified charm. The more specified a charm, the harder it is to counter. That's the reason why they are used on a regular basis in duelling tournaments.

"When I was very young and still very new to the world of professional duelling, I was hit by a localised silencing charm to my larynx and couldn't dispel it since I didn't know how. It was highly embarrassing but my competitor drew me aside afterwards and told me to look into specified charms. I think he regretted giving me that piece of advice when I faced him again a few years later." The dwarf-sized professor chuckled at the memory.

"But coming back to the Numbing Charm. The incantation is '_Torpesco'_ followed by a specification of choice and the wand movement is thus." With his own wand he traced a circle in the air followed by a firm prod. "And now you can practice on each other."

Terry turned to Harry. "Do you want to go first or should I?"

"You go first."

Seeing that others were getting up to stand, Harry and Terry followed their example and made their way towards the back of the classroom where the desks had been pushed to one side. They stood facing each other, divided by nearly two metres. Each practised the wand movements and rolled the incantation around on their tongues to get the feel of it before Terry motioned that he wanted a proper attempt.

"_Torpesco Crurem!"_ A dart of light blue energy flew out of Terry's wand and hit him straight on. Immediately he wobbled and adjusted his stance as his left leg became deadened.

"Any idea what the counter-charm is?" Harry asked, his left arm gripping his leg.

Terry shrugged. "No idea. Flitwick will tell us at some point. You might as well just have a go at me."

"What's 'arm' again?"

"_Bracchium_," answered Terry.

"OK. _Torpesco Bracchium!_" A dart of magic, this time lime green in colour, cut through the air and hit Terry.

"This feels mega weird," said Terry who was now holding up his numbed right arm with his left. "It feels all floppy. It's almost as though someone cut it off since it's just dead weight."

"Interestingly enough, that charm was once used for amputation purposes," said Flitwick who had wandered over to where they stood. "You also get better results when you aim for the specific body part."

"Er – Professor, how do we un-charm ourselves?"

"Finite followed by whatever body part is charmed. Thankfully, magic is not so difficult to give us a different counter-spell for each different specialised spell. But the wand movements must be the same as the original charm." He then drifted over to another pair.

"_Finite crurem!" _A pulse of blue hit his left leg and feeling began to return.

The next quarter of an hour was spent practising the customized charms. After that, Flitwick taught them a few simple healing spells and they practiced cutting themselves and then healing the wound up.

"So what did you think?" Padma asked him as they trundled out of the classroom.

Harry was all enthusiasm. "It was really good! I wish our Charms lessons were like that."

Charms lessons usually consisted of two-thirds theory, one-third practical. They usually only managed to learn one spell per lesson and even then he sometimes had to work on practising the spell outside of class.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it." They were back in the Entrance Hall. "Does this mean you'll come again?"

"Definitely," Harry assured her. "Barring Quidditch practice, of course."

"Of course. Also, do you happen to have a free period first thing tomorrow morning?"

"Yeah, think so."

"Well, we're meeting up in the library then to do some homework. You don't have to come or anything, but you're welcome to. I'll even help out with the Ancient Runes."

"I'll be there," he promised as they came to the corridor where they had to split off.

Padma grinned. "We'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Bye," waved Mandy.

"It's nice to know you're not up-yourself," said Terry. "I had wondered."

"Terry!" Padma looked at him in horror while Mandy elbowed the dark-haired boy.

Harry just laughed. "Good to know."

"Anyway, you'll have to introduce me to this Dobby. He sounds like a laugh. That and I like the sound of freely-given food."

"Will do," said Harry before saying his own goodbyes and splitting off to get back to the Gryffindor common room.

Alicia tried to corner him upon his return. "So how was Charms Club?"

"Good, thanks," was his only reply as he retreated to where Ron and Hermione were sitting doing their homework.

"Hey," he said, collapsing onto one of the comfy armchairs.

Hermione looked up from her work long enough to smile at him while Ron gave a more verbal greeting in the form of: "You weren't gone long. Was it that boring that you left early?"

"No, it was really good actually. You should have come along."

"And do more work than I actually need to? No thanks."

Hermione sniffed in disapproval. "Honestly, Ron; I think it's brilliant that Harry's taking a more proactive approach to learning."

Not sure quite what to say to that without offending at least one of his friends, Harry changed the subject. "Right, well, I was wondering whether either of you wanted to do a bit of exploring. It's just the map was playing up a bit the other day and I wrote to Padfoot, but I haven't heard anything back yet, so I was thinking maybe we could try and figure it out. What do you think?"

Hermione looked up from her work for the third time. "Sorry, Harry, but Professor Vector set us this really hard number chart yesterday and I'm still trying to figure it out. Besides it's nearly curfew."

"Well that's nothing my cloak can't handle," said Harry. "Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"This is in for before lunchtime tomorrow. I really want to finish it tonight."

"OK, then," said Harry, turning to Ron. "What about you?"

"Nah, can't be bothered. And Dean promised me a game of chess once he's finished his moon chart. Sinistra's given him an extra day to hand it in. Apparently told him that he had her sympathies for having to work with Seamus," he said with a laugh.

Harry laughed as he was meant to before excusing himself to go upstairs. Neville was the only other person in the dormitory and for a moment Harry considered asking him whether he'd want to do a bit of exploring. His mind then reminded him that this was Neville and he abandoned the suggestion.

"How come you're up here?" asked Harry as he opened up his trunk. Walking around Hogwarts by himself seemed a bit boring and he couldn't exactly let Neville see the Invisibility Cloak; if Ron could recognise it then he presumed Neville could as well. He figured he might as well do some more Ancient Runes translations to get a bit more up-to-scratch for tomorrow.

Neville stumbled over his words. His cheeks were flooded red and he kept rubbing his hands together as his eyes refused to meet Harry's. "Er, I was just, um, thinking about having a bit of a sleep. But if you're coming up here then I can go." He made to go to the door.

Harry gave him a strange look. "I just came up to get some stuff. I'll be gone in a bit."

"Oh, well, in that case..." Neville turned back towards his bedstead.

Harry quickly collected up a piece of parchment and the Ancient Runes book Bill had given him. He shot Neville another strange look before shaking his head and returning to the common room.

Dean had obviously finished off his Astronomy homework since him and Ron were setting up a chess game. The black boy's face already had a look of resignation before they even began. Ron waved him over to watch but Harry shook his head and instead took a seat by the still furiously working Hermione.

"Look, Harry, I already said I needed to finish this," snipped Hermione, obviously misinterpreting the sheet of parchment he carried for the Marauder's Map.

"Actually, I thought I'd do some translations," Harry told her, lifting up the accompanying textbook for her to see.

"Oh," was all she said.

"And do you know if anything's up with Neville? He was acting a bit strangely when I went up to the dorms."

Hermione gave a careless shrug, still pouring over her work. "He's probably just getting a bit nervous about Potions tomorrow. Snape did mention that tomorrow's potion might be a bit volatile, and I know that Neville's grandmother sent him a letter complaining about the number of cauldrons he's got through this year."

"I didn't think he'd ruined any more than usual," said Harry, but Hermione was no longer listening.

Pushing thoughts of Neville's strange behaviour to the back of his mind, Harry began to concentrate on the translation in front of him. He was on chapter ten of sixteen and was translating a debate on who was better, the Romans or the Greeks.

It was slightly irritating that the practical application of Ancient Runes only came in at NEWT level, but he could see why it was important to fully understand the basics of the language first. The structure of the runes was extremely precise and the vocabulary seemed endless. But despite its difficulty, Harry found to his surprise that he actually enjoyed it.

Thinking about it, he thought that he probably ought to send Bill a note of thanks. He also decided that it might be a good idea to seek out the Ancient Runes professor to ask whether he could sit the third year exam; he doubted he knew enough to face the fourth year test paper.

Two long translations later and he decided to call it a night. He once again traipsed up to the fourth year boys' dormitories. The curtains had been drawn around Neville's bed and Harry made a mental note to ask Ron if he'd noticed anything peculiar about Neville.

But at breakfast the next day when Harry was about to mention Neville's strange behaviour from the night before, an owl dropped the newest version of the Daily Prophet in front of the trio. The thick bold lettering screamed out the headline:

_Black's Attempt to Rally Supporters in Italy Backfires!_

"Bloody Hell," said Ron in quiet disbelief, which, Harry thought to himself, summed it up entirely.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I still own nothing.

Author's Notes: Well, 143 games of FreeCell later and here's the next chapter. As always, a big thank you to those who took the time to review and I hope you don't mind when I send back rambling responses in a few cases. Also, thanks to Diogenes for answering that question so quickly.

Chapter Twelve

Underneath the heading and dominating the page were two black and white photos. The first showed a wizard who was easily identifiable as Sirius start to fire a barrage of spells at an unseen opponent before repeating the action as the photo looped itself. The second depicted fiery mythical beasts emerging from a burning haze as a line of houses was engulfed in flames.

Harry quickly read the article.

_Amiternum, Italy. Two days ago the magical town of Amiternum erupted into a burning crescendo as uncontrolled Fiendfyre destroyed everything in its wake. The conflagration left twenty three dead and the town in ruins. The cause of such flagrant destruction lies at the wand of one man – Sirius Black. _

_A notorious Death Eater, Black left Aurors baffled last year when he became the first man to escape the island prison of Azkaban after being incarcerated there for killing thirteen Muggles and Peter Pettigrew on November 1__st__ 1981. How he managed the break out is still unknown, though many suspect Dark Magics learnt from You Know Who himself. He managed to escape the hands of the law for months on end before being captured at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In an embarrassing turn of events for previous Minster of Magic Cornelius Fudge, he miraculously broke free and was last spotted in Dover during the month of July._

_Many had speculated as to Black's goals in escaping. Criminal psychologist, Victoria Lightbody, who is currently liaising with the Aurors on Black's case described how You Know Who's defeat will still feel very recent due to his prolonged exposure to Dementors. She believes that Black's presence at Hogwarts last year was motivated by vengeance as he sought to take revenge against the Boy Who Lived – the cause of You Know Who's downfall – who is currently studying at the prestigious school._

_But failing to hurt the Boy Who Lived, Black fled the country. "He failed at getting to Potter so now he's following through with his second main goal, which, judging from previous Death Eater behaviour such as the likes of Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, would be seeking out He Who Must Not Be Named," stated Lightbody. At Lestrange's trial the dark witch proclaimed adamantly that You Know Who would return._

_Italy itself is a conflicted region; a trend that has lasted for centuries. Black's presence there in Amiternum, a well-known hub of Dark activity, suggests to many experts that he's seeking out followers and trying to build a power-base for, as Lightbody put it, "What he perceives is his master's  
eventual return." Current theories believe that something went wrong and Black showed exactly why he was You Know Who's second in command._

_The actual events that took place are still overshadowed with confusion and a disbelief at what happened. Eye-witnesses have stated that the altercation broke out in the local pub with many residents describing the appearance of the Grim, the omen of death. Fighting broke out in the pub before spreading into the street where residents feared for their lives as Black battled an, as yet, unknown opponent._

_Carmina Torvelli, a singer at the pub, retreated upstairs to escape the flying curses and saw the whole thing unfold from the safety of a window. She spoke of Black duelling against a man she described as "small with not much hair" while a crowd watched on eagerly. Three other people were said to have begun fighting against Black, though little is known about them._

_After a period of fighting, Black was said to have chased after his small opponent and before leaving the underground town through the Runesgate that leads to the Roman ruins above ground. It was soon after his departure that locals noticed flames licking at the bottom of the pub. Despite efforts to control the fire, water did not affect the building flames. It wasn't long before the conflagration had engulfed the pub and the surrounding buildings with smoke reducing visibility. As the fire twisted into a towering inferno, fiery creatures burst forth spreading the fire throughout the underground town._

_Experts suspect that Black released Fiendfyre, one of the most dangerous and hard to control spells in existence, just before leaving the area. He was no doubt attempting to cover his tracks and guessed that the blaze would be blamed on combatants hailing from a different part of feuding Italy. The use of such a deadly spell as Fiendfyre correlates strongly to the events at the Quidditch World Cup which were plagued with Death Eater activity._

_Details surrounding the wizard duelling Black are sketchy at best. His standing up to Black parallels the duel that took place between Black and his school time friend, Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew was mercilessly cut down by Black with only a finger being found just over thirteen years ago. Whether this heroic wizard met the same fate remains unclear, though another eye-witness mentioned the other wizard loosing an arm during the conflict._

_The fractured Italian government is for once united in their outrage at Black's attack and have added to the bounty already on his head, raising it now to four and a half thousand Galleons. Britain's Head of International Cooperation, Bartemius Crouch, has Portkeyed over to Italy with a team of highly-trained Aurors to help coordinate a search for Black. It is thought that he might still be in the area trying to rally supporters to his Death Eater cause. Britain has also pledged a generous fifteen thousand Galleons to help rebuild the ruined city._

_On the home front, newly instated Minister of Magic Amelia Bones has decided to increase Auror training and intake to cope with "threats that may come to pass". Critics of this move have accused her of scare-mongering but the Minister answered her opponents with a statement reading that she would prefer to be ready for any possible threat to Britain's shores than to be underprepared for possible future events. It is a bold message on the Minister's part and many have remarked that this action reveals just what direction Bones wishes to take Britain. She seems determined not to let the events at the Quidditch World Cup repeat themselves._

Finishing the article, Harry's eyes turned to the teacher's table hoping to see Dumbledore's reaction. But the headmaster wasn't present.

"He's probably at a meeting to do with this," said Hermione when Harry kept staring up at the high table. "He is Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards."

"Yeah, you're probably right," sighed Harry before dropping his voice. "It's just - why was he even in Italy?"

"Seeking Wormtail," said Hermione as she leaned across the table. "The description matches up and it's the only explanation."

"Yeah, I sort of figured that one out on my own," he told her somewhat testily. "I'm not a total idiot, you know. It's just he was supposed to be in hiding. He wasn't supposed to be chasing Wormtail across Europe. He was supposed to be staying safe."

"Well, he was a bit off his rocker when we met him," said Ron quietly.

Harry then noticed that several pairs of eyes were looking in his direction. Hermione also seemed to have noticed the heightened interest in their section of the Gryffindor table as she suggested that maybe the Great Hall wasn't the best place to discuss such things.

"Yeah," agreed Harry before looking at his watch and moving to get up.

"Hey, mate, where are you going? We've got a free morning."

"Library," said Harry a bit vaguely, making a quick gesture to the main door. In the corner of his eye he noticed that Padma was heading for said door.

"Ah, nothing interesting then," said Ron and went back to eating his bacon and eggs.

Feeling strangely relieved that Ron wasn't about to tag along, Harry bid them goodbye and made his way out to the Entrance Hall where Padma was waiting for him.

"Mandy and Terry are still eating and Lisa's waiting about for them, so I thought that we could go and save them some seats," said Padma after her initial greeting.

Harry considered mentioning the Room of Requirement as a place to study but quickly discarded the idea. He didn't really know Padma's friends and, well, the Room of Requirement was something that only he and Padma knew about, and he wanted it to stay that way for a while.

They quickly fell into step with each other as they made their way towards the library.

"So, what did you think of Terry and Mandy?"

"Well I didn't really get much of a chance to talk to Mandy but Terry seems OK," said Harry.

Padma grinned. "We only really became friends with him after he fell out with Anthony at the beginning of third year. I sometimes feel a bit bad since he's nearly always surrounded by girls, especially since Michael sided with Anthony."

"I'm sure it's not that much of a hardship."

"Are you saying my company's not a hardship?" She looked at him expectantly, an impish gleam dancing in her dark eyes.

He made a big thing of musing over the question. "Tolerable, I suppose," he said eventually before breaking into a grin.

She nudged him good-naturedly and they shared a laugh.

There followed a slight pause as Harry pulled on a brass candle holder fixed to the wall. He then gestured for Padma to proceed ahead of him as the wall slid open to reveal a rickety staircase.

As they climbed single-file up the creaking staircase that twisted in a square-shaped pattern, Padma hesitantly brought up a topic he had sort of hoped to avoid. "I read the article about Sirius Black."

"Oh," was all Harry could say.

"It just seems really strange to think that he was trying to kill, well, _you_. I never really thought about it last year."

"Thanks," said Harry dryly; "It's nice to know you care so much."

Padma stopped at a corner to turn round to hit him lightly on the arm. "I didn't mean it like that. You make me sound horrible. It's just that it seems like there's quite a few people out to kill you and you never seem at all fazed by it. It's just strange when you think about it."

"I've never really thought about it," said Harry, his brows creasing together in thought as they continued up the stairs.

"Oh, well," said Padma with a reassuring smile as they slipped through a tapestry on the fourth floor. "I'm sure the Aurors will capture Black soon. He's in Italy so it's not like he'll be coming after you again. I really shouldn't have brought it up."

"Don't worry about it," said Harry distractedly as they entered the library. His mind was still focused on what she'd said. There really were people out there who wanted him dead. Somehow, despite everything that had occurred over the last three years, that fact had been lost in a haze of near misses and unravelled mysteries. Thinking back, he realised just how lucky he'd been to avoid a sticky end. But what would happen when that luck ran out? Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know.

The library was mostly deserted and they quickly commandeered a round 5-seater table that was hidden from Madame Pince's view by a several stacks filled with books. Harry, who usually sat on the other side of the library with Ron and Hermione, approached the books after he noticed that they lacked the usual leather bindings of the library's expanse of textbooks.

"These aren't textbooks," said Harry as he scanned the line of titles. _The Adventures of Blodwin the Bloodthirsty, A Dwarf Called Reginald, Aspasia Arkendale: The Lost Child, Wands, Love Potions and the Occasional Stuffed Vulture Hat, Warlocks Are From Mars, Witches are from Venus, The Tales of Beedle the Bard..._

"Of course they're not," she shot him a strange look.

"What? So the magical world has novels and stories?"

"What did you think Lockhart's books were?" piped up a male voice from behind. Terry, Mandy and a blond-haired girl he knew to be Lisa Turpin had finally turned up.

Mandy turned to Terry, a look of shock on her face. "Are you saying that Lockhart didn't defeat the Wagga-Wagga werewolf?" Her voice was filled with exaggerated surprise and her eyes were theatrically widened.

"Well, they might have encountered each other, but to find out what really happened you'd have to check the adult version. Those howls the villagers heard weren't the cries of a dying werewolf, more like a-"

"Terry!" Padma interrupted before he could finish.

Terry grinned as they all settled down into their chairs. "Well, you get the picture. I wonder what happened to dear old Lockhart. I miss re-enacting scenes from _Gadding With Ghouls_."

"He's at St. Mungo's," said Lisa quietly. Her pale face was dotted with red blotches that showed a serious case of acne. Unlike poor old Eloise Midgen, she hadn't tried to charm the spots off and so her nose was still dead centre. "My mum's a healer there and he's in a long-term ward for patients with permanent spell damage. They can't really figure out what happened to him beyond knowing that a memory charm of some sort was involved."

Harry shifted slightly in his seat. Lockhart's condition was something he knew intimate detail of.

"Shame," commented Terry, "I rather miss the drama of his lessons."

"But at least we're learning something useful now. I think Abravan's doing a pretty good job, though he is a bit strange."

"Strange?" asked Harry as he turned to look at Mandy. He had his own reasons for speculating about their newest Defence professor, but he doubted their concerns stemmed from the same thing.

"Don't you ever get the feeling that he's always a bit distracted?"

"No," answered Terry plainly. "That's just you imagining things."

Mandy elbowed him. "Well I didn't imagine the scars lining his arms. You can't tell me that's not a bit dodgy."

"Something," said Terry with great seriousness, "is rotten in the state of Denmark."

"I don't get it." Padma was looking rather befuddled in a rather endearing way. "What does Denmark have to do with anything?"

Terry heaved a melodramatic sigh. "I'm lost on you people."

Mandy lifted her eyes heavenwards. "Maybe we ought to actually do some work. I've got to finish this stupid translation for last thing."

"You do Ancient Runes, then?" asked Harry.

"Unfortunately. Be glad you didn't pick it; it's the worst subject going. I only picked it since my uncle's a ward builder so I figured it might run in the family, but no such luck."

"Well actually I'm sort of learning it in my own time and I'm finding it really interesting. At least it's nowhere near as bad as Divination."

"Not sure about that," Mandy disagreed. "At least Trelawney seems like a laugh."

"A drunk, more like." Harry was remembering the empty sherry bottles hidden away in the North Tower.

Mandy looked like she was going to respond when Lisa leaned across the table to deliver a warning: "Pince is heading this way."

By the time the sour-faced librarian had made her way over to them they had become the very picture of hard-working students. Textbooks were lying open and quills were scribbling away on lengths of parchment. Pince's eagle eyes looked over them, her pinched face drawn into a frown. But she said nothing and after a few minutes of observation strode off.

"God I hate that woman," said Terry once she was out of ear shot. "She looks more miserable than Pansy Parkinson and that's saying something."

"Well she does have to put up with Malfoy on a regular basis," contributed Harry. "I'm sure prolonged exposure has some negative side-effects."

"True, true," said Terry softly before grinning. "We only have to look at Crabbe and Goyle to realise the long term effects."

"You two are terrible," said Padma, throwing a discarded scrape of parchment at Terry. "I'm sure they're nice people once you get to know them."

Terry gave her a sceptical look. "Indian Ink, I don't think communication would be possible. You can't honestly think they're entirely of the _Homo sapiens _variety. There's just too much gorilla involved. Whether it was a tragedy of birth or the results of experimenting gone wrong, I can't say for certain, but I can't truthfully class those two as people."

"You're horrible," said Padma as she held back a smile. "And don't call me Indian Ink; you know I hate it."

As the others settled into their work, Harry leaned closer to Padma asking, "Something to do with the Giant Squid incident?"

She nodded. "Something I'm sure I'll never live down. Now let's get on and do some work since I have once again left everything to the last minute."

They shared a brief smile before they began to concentrate on their homework with only the occasional glances in each other's direction.

It was a different studying environment to what he was used to. There was no Ron to offer endless distraction with his moans, no Hermione telling them to get on with it and always getting up to cross reference something or other. Instead, there was a more relaxed quality to the whole thing.

Padma also proved to be extremely helpful when it came to explaining grammatical points in Ancient Runes which he had moved onto once he had finished his Defence essay. She was more patient than Hermione as well as being a lot more understandable. While Hermione threw in a bunch of jargon, Padma went for simplicity and always made sure he understood before moving on. He also happened to find listening to Padma a far more pleasant experience.

"I hope I've been some help," said Padma with a self-conscious smile. It was a few minutes before half ten and they were all beginning to collect their bits and pieces as they prepared to depart for their next lesson.

"You really have. And I really appreciate it."

They were both standing up now, their bags still resting on the table. Padma tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear and Harry searched his mind for something to say. "Er – what have you got next?"

"History," she said with a groan. "You?"

"Potions. But after lunch I've only got single Herbology and then I'm free. Well, except for in the evening with Quidditch practice. Are you free too, or...?" he trailed off.

"Sorry, my afternoon's filled with lessons." She looked very apologetic. "I'm free last thing tomorrow, though."

"I've got Defence last thing. And Quidditch practice."

She wrinkled her nose. "I suppose it'll have to be Astronomy on Friday then."

"Yeah," said Harry, wishing to say more but unsure what exactly to say. They stood there for a moment, their eyes flickering away before returning to look at each other.

Just then, Terry popped up next to them; something Harry didn't know whether to be annoyed at or relieved by. He looked between them before clasping his hands together. "So, when shall we three meet again?"

Padma turned to look at Terry. "What?"

Terry sighed. "I was wondering when us lot would be meeting up again."

"Oh, well I've got Muggle Studies and Runes after Defence this afternoon, but Harry's free." She looked back at him.

"Really?" said Terry. "Well I've got a free afternoon. You can show me the kitchens."

"Yeah, 'course," said Harry distractedly as he turned to face Terry. "When are you free?"

"Defence finishes at quarter to two and then I'm free as a bird. What about you?"

Harry absent-mindedly pushed his slipping glasses further up his nose. "I finish Herbology at that time. How 'bout I meet you outside the Defence room?"

"Yeah, fine. Anyway, we all better be going since next lesson starts in another few minutes." Terry was glancing down at his watch.

"Really? Bugger. I better get going since I'm in the dungeons next." He grabbed his bag. "I'll see you both later, OK. But now I've really got to go."

They all made hurried goodbyes and Harry walked quickly out of the library, saying a brief farewell to the dawdling Mandy and Lisa. As soon as he exited the library he started to race along the corridor as he hurried towards the dungeons for his Potions lesson.

But despite all his rushing he still found himself entering the Potions classroom late. A fact which Snape was only too happy to point out; "Ten points from Gryffindor for lateness!" he snarled. "It seems we must add on a lack of punctuality to the growing list of your inadequacies. Now sit down."

Harry slid onto the bench next to Ron while a few of the Slytherins sniggered amongst themselves. The two best friends shared a look over Snape being his normal self before concentrating on the task at hand – making a Fever-Reducing Potion from the instructions scrawled on the black board.

"He's a right git," said Ron quietly as he diced up the crocodile heart.

"I know. I was only a couple of minutes late. But I suppose it's a more valid reason than heavy breathing." Gryffindor had lost five points before Christmas for such a reason.

Hermione, who was sitting on the other side of Ron as she partnered up with Neville, turned to look at them. "I'd stop talking about it if I were you. Snape won't hesitate to give you a detention if he hears you."

A shadow cast over their workstation. "How very astute of you, Miss Granger," came the silky voice of the Potions master. "How do your friends put up with such an insufferable know-it-all?"

None of them spoke to answer. "Well?"

"I thought it was rhetorical, sir," Harry ground out.

"Are you actively trying to get a detention, Potter? I never realised you liked my company so much."

This time Harry held his tongue. He knew from past experience just how slippery a slope wordplay with Snape could be.

"Five points from Gryffindor for disruption and sheer cheek in the face of your superiors. Now return to your work." He then strode away, his black robes fluttering behind him.

Hermione gave them a pointed look that translated as "I told you so".

"You really are an insufferable know-it-all at times, Hermione," said Ron to which she elbowed him before continuing to instruct Neville on their potion.

000

Come quarter to two, Harry found himself standing outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Hermione and Ron had disappeared off to the common room with the red-haired wizard giving him an odd look when he mentioned where he was going.

The first people out were Terry and Padma. She gave him a small wave and grin before rushing off with Mandy and a few other Ravenclaws to get to Muggle Studies. Terry moved to stand by him as the rest of the class filtered out.

"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes," said Terry quietly as Draco Malfoy walked out of the classroom accompanied, as usual, by the hulking forms of Crabbe and Goyle.

Malfoy's pinched face showed some surprise as he noticed Harry's presence. His lips twisted into a smirk. "Well, Potter, this is a surprise. How magnanimous of you to bless me with your presence twice in one day. But where's Weasel-Bee? Don't tell me you had a lovers' tiff."

"Get stuffed, Malfoy; I'm not in the mood to put up with idiots like you."

"Oh, yes, of course," crowed Malfoy, a malicious glint entering his grey eyes. "I forgot that you saw just what Sirius Black is capable of today. Shame he couldn't finish the job the Dark Lord started."

Sirius? Draco Malfoy was trying to frighten him with the threat of his godfather! Harry had to stop himself from laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

Malfoy had obviously misinterpreted his reaction as he continued his taunts. "I heard they were friends – Black and your father. I even heard that it was Black that betrayed your parents. He was practically responsible for their deaths."

Harry put on a bored expression. "You seem remarkably well informed. I wonder who told you all this, hmm? Your father doesn't happen to have a white mask by any chance, does he?"

A pink tinge spread across the Slytherin's pale face.

"Hit a nerve, have I?"

Malfoy pulled out his wand and Harry reached for his own. A hex was on the tip of Harry's tongue as he waited for Malfoy to make his move.

"_Densaugeo!" _

"_Expel-"_

"_Protego!" _The blue beam that had spouted from Malfoy's wand fizzled out when it met the magical barrier. Harry looked to his side where Abravan stood, his wand outstretched from casting the Shield Charm.

"Potter! Malfoy!" Abravan's large blue eyes peered out from under his bushy eyebrows as he gazed from one to the other.

"He started it," said Malfoy quickly.

The Defence professor's brows wrinkled together in a frown as he looked at the Slytherin before he gestured for them both to follow him into his office next door.

Harry had visited this office under two of its previous occupants. Under Lockhart's tenure the walls had been plastered with beaming, winking pictures of the fraudulent Lockhart. The previous year, when Professor Lupin had lived here, you were more likely to come across a specimen of some fascinating new Dark creature procured for a lesson.

The first thing that leapt out at Harry was how disorganised the office had become. The shelves were half full of books, the other half having been haphazardly scattered over the room. The desk was littered with parchment scrolls, broken quills and other odd ends.

More surprising than anything, however, was an envelope lying half-hidden under what appeared to be someone's homework. In the corner of the plain white envelope was a Royal Mail paid postage stamp. Slightly beneath this and edging towards the left of the envelope was a small see-through area where a computer printed address could be viewed:

_Mr Hamish Glen Abravan_

_Carfax Hall_

_Whitby_

_North Yorkshire_

_YO21 1QE_

"Mr Potter?" prompted the professor.

"Yes?" Harry noticed that Abravan's long sleeves had slipped back slightly on his right arm when the professor had replaced his wand into its holster. He could just make out some strange scar-like marks on his arms. Mandy had been right.

"Well, lad, what's your story? He there says it be your fault," he said as he waved in Malfoy's direction.

Harry was just about to start explaining what had happened – and how it was all at Malfoy's instigation – when something occurred to him. "Didn't you hear what happened from the classroom?" Then, as an afterthought, he quickly added on a "Sir".

He rather thought that Abravan smiled at that, but he blinked and the professor's face was back to being neutral. "That as may be, but I was hoping for some entertainment."

Harry didn't know what to say to that so he remained quiet.

"Well, I haven't be having the time to give you a detention, so I suppose it'll have to be points. Twenty points from Slytherin."

"And?" said Malfoy after a pause.

"'And' what, lad? You were in the wrong."

Malfoy's face twisted into a scowl. He looked like he wanted to say something more but after looking at Abravan's impassive face he apparently decided against it. Instead he got to his feet and strode out of the office.

A deep sigh had Harry turning away from the door to look back at Abravan. The Defence teacher swiped a hand through his greying tufts of hair. "I'm too old for all this."

He then seemed to remember Harry's presence. "You can be going, lad, though perhaps in less dramatic a fashion."

Harry rose to his feet and made his way over to the door. Before exiting, though, he turned back to Abravan.

"Can I be doing something for you, Mr Potter?"

"I was just wondering what that spell was that you used against Malfoy."

Abravan eyes widened before his bushy eyebrows crinkled together. "That, my lad, is a basic shield charm. Something you should have learnt years ago. It seems to me you're even further behind than I originally thought. I'll be sure to go over it next lesson."

Harry turned once again to leave when Abravan said his name. "Piece of advice: there be no point in disarming your opponent _after_ a curse is sent your way."

Harry nodded before leaving the office and making his way over to where Terry stood waiting. His mood was ponderous as he considered what Abravan had said, as well as the realisation that their Defence teacher lived in the Muggle world and received bank statements. He had collected Uncle Vernon's post enough to recognise such a letter.

"I saw Malfoy storm out a few minutes ago. What happened?" asked Terry, effectively knocking Harry out of his reverie.

"What? Oh, yeah, Malfoy just got points removed. But no doubt Snape will probably add them back on for some stupid reason."

"Sounds about right. Now I think it's time you lead on to the freely given food and the tea-cosy wearing elf." He did an elaborate gesture for Harry to proceed in front of him. "You know I think there could be a poem in there somewhere. Ode to tea-cosy wearing elf."

Harry just grinned. "Wait till you meet him."

000

Later that day Harry slumped into a chair next to Ron. He had just returned from an exhausting Quidditch practice where Angelina and Alicia had badgered him with questions about Padma.

"Good practice?" asked Ron as he looked up from some piece of homework.

"Wet," replied Harry. "It started snowing on us but Angelina made us continue on for another half hour. Be glad you got to stay in the warmth."

Ron gave a tight smile at that and Harry quickly changed the subject as he suddenly recalled Ron's failed attempts at joining the Quidditch team. "So where's Hermione?"

"Sleeping. She said she had a bit of a headache or something. It's all that reading she does. Scared Neville away earlier when she started on about some potion law. No wonder he's getting tutoring from a seventh year instead of her. I swear that girl is mental when it comes to work."

"Yeah, but that's what defines Hermione, isn't it." There was a slight pause. "Is she alright about the whole World Cup thing or is she still... well, you know...?"

Ron shrugged. "She doesn't really talk about it anymore. I think she realises that she couldn't do anything at the time. But you know how girls are emotional about stuff."

He suddenly seemed to remember something. "Oh, yeah, before I forget – Parvati was asking about you."

"Parvati?" questioned Harry.

"Yeah. She was asking me what you thought of her sister."

"Really?" He tried not to sound too enthusiastic despite the smile that was threatening to stretch across his face. "What did you say?"

Ron shrugged, more focused on his essay than Harry. "Just that you spent quite a bit of time with her. She seemed a bit put out that I didn't know any more than that."

"Did she say why she was asking?"

"Nah. I didn't really think about it and I was playing a chess game against what's-his-name in the year above. He's a pretty decent player so I had to be on my guard. He almost had me at one-"

"So she didn't say anything about Padma?" interrupted Harry who didn't care about some chess game.

"Not really. She just wanted to know what you thought about her sister. Don't ask me why, though."

Deciding that Ron had no useful information to offer, he got to his feet. "Right, well I'm going to head off to bed since I'm knackered. I'll see you in the morning, then."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I've just got to finish this bloody essay or Hermione will have my head."

They bid each other goodnight and Harry traipsed up the staircase to his dormitory. Dean and Seamus were still downstairs and Neville's curtains were sealed shut.

_Tap. Tap. Tap_. Harry looked over at the window nearest him. An eagle owl was pecking at the glass pane with its beak.

Curious, he opened the window before yelping slightly as the owl flew over to him and dug its talons into him as it landed on his arm. Cursing the bird, he noticed a folded piece of parchment tied to one of its legs. Harry then realised what owl it was.

"I s'pose I can't be too angry with you," he told the bird as he untied the letter. "You can go off to the owlry now, you know."

The owl hooted at him before taking off and flying out of the still open window.

Shivering at the icy wind drifting in from said window, Harry quickly latched it shut before settling himself on to his bed. His hands quickly unfolded the parchment and read Sirius's short reply.

Sighing at the brevity of the content, Harry tucked the letter beneath his pillow. He was too tired to think about the incident in the Slytherin common room right then. All he knew was that something strange was going on at Hogwarts even if no one else seemed to realise it. That, and Padma Patil might just like him.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I own nothing still

Author's Notes: University has well and truly started so time to write is on the decrease. It's also unfortunate for you lot that I'm now living with friends so writing time has most definitely suffered. But the story needs to be written and shall get written, albeit at a slower rate. I also suffered through over a week of no internet, which didn't help. As always, thanks to those who reviewed; I will reply to every review, though it may take some time with work and such. I also have to say thanks to Diogenes for the feedback. Oh, and sorry for this rambling note that you really don't care about. Props to you if you actually read it.

Chapter Thirteen

"You know," said Alicia as she sidled up next to him, "there's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up soon. Next week, in fact."

It was a Friday evening and they were just finishing up Quidditch practice. With their latest victory still feeling recent – they had beaten the Hufflepuff team the weekend before – Angelina had given them a bit more leeway. Their last match against Ravenclaw was scheduled for after the Easter holidays and they all welcomed the break from Angelina's strenuous training.

"Yeah, I know," said Harry, slightly dubious about where this was heading.

"So?" Alicia was looking at him expectantly.

"So, what?"

She sighed. "You're such a boy."

"Right," said Harry, giving her a strange look.

Alicia rolled her eyes at him. "_So_, are you going to be asking anyone to Hogsmeade? A certain Ravenclaw, perhaps?"

He could feel his face heating up and he quickly turned his head towards where the twins were coaxing the Bludgers into the box of Quidditch equipment. "Haven't really thought about," he lied. He had in fact been toying with the idea for the last fortnight. Probably a bit longer than that if he was being perfectly honest.

She folded her arms. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"No, but you could at least pretend to believe it."

Alicia chuckled. "Why haven't you asked her yet? And don't lie."

"She might say no," he told her quietly.

"She might say yes," retorted Alicia.

"Yeah, but it's better imagining her saying yes than actually going ahead and her saying no."

"Rather convoluted of you, don't you think?"

In the background, the twins had finally managed to strap down the last Bludger. Their ginger hair was flecked with fallen snowflakes as they shut the Quidditch box tight.

"Hey, you two, I need a favour," shouted Alicia, beckoning them over.

"You called," said George as they approached where Alicia and Harry were standing.

Harry really didn't like where this was going and he tried to interrupt the proceedings. "Look, it's fine. Really. I don't need any help."

"Yes, Harry," said Alicia firmly, "you do." She then turned towards the twins. "Harry needs advice on how to ask a girl out."

The twins turned to look at him, identical wicked grins spreading across their faces. "Is ickle Harry interested in a girl, then?"

"Shut up," moaned Harry, looking anywhere but at the three people beside him.

"So who's the lucky girl?"

"Padma Patil," supplied Alicia helpfully. "Fourth year Ravenclaw."

"Not too bad, not too bad." Harry glanced at George who was tapping a finger against his chin as he spoke.

"And you want to ask this girl to Hogsmeade, correct?" asked Fred.

Alicia was giving him a pointed look and Harry found himself replying affirmatively. "But, really, I don't-"

"It's all about confidence," interrupted George as though Harry had never spoken.

"Right," said Harry, his voice holding a distinct amount of scepticism.

Fred shook his head at him. "Confidence, young Harry. That is the secret to success. Don't talk too fast-"

"-Don't mumble-" continued George.

"- Nor stutter. Just take a deep breath and play it cool. Oh the stories I could tell."

Even Alicia gave him a funny look at that.

"And as a guarantee that my oh so very brilliant and superbly excellent method works, I shall give an example." Fred then turned to face the direction that Angelina was in. "Oi, Angie!"

The black girl looked up from where she was talking with Katie and Jason. "What?"

"Wanna go to Hogsmeade next weekend?"

"With you?"

"No, with Dumbledore," he told her sarcastically. "Of course, with me."

Angelina gave him an appraising look. "Alright then."

Fred winked at him. "See, Harry: piece of cake."

000

The twins' advice was still ringing through his head as he made his way up to the Astronomy Tower for the last lesson of the week. It all sounded so easy when Fred was explaining it, but actually getting the nerve to ask was something else altogether.

"And I'm supposed to be a Gryffindor," he muttered to himself.

He spotted Padma setting up the telescope in their spot. As she smiled at him, he suddenly realised just how sweaty his palms were.

"Hey," she greeted as he sat down.

"Er – hi." Right, better to just get it over and done with. He opened his mouth to speak and then thought better of it. His mouth slid shut.

Padma was looking at him expectantly now, obviously having noticed the open-mouth/close-mouth routine. "Are you OK?"

"Fine," he said a little too quickly and a bit more high-pitched than usual. "You?"

She scrunched her nose slightly. "Pretty sleepy, really. I like Astronomy but not staying up till past midnight. I just want to sleep right now."

Harry mentally noted down that she was tired and so might not be quite on the ball. He figured sleepiness could help his cause. Worst way, if she refused then he could blame it on the fact that she wasn't totally awake and didn't know what she was saying. He opened his mouth to speak-

"Can we now crack on with the lesson, please?" Sinistra's voice rang out and the low murmur of voices that had filled the tower fell into silence. "Thank you. Now tonight..."

His mouth slowly closed as he pretended to pay attention to what Sinistra was droning on about. It all seemed rather pointless in comparison to his own dilemma. Who would have thought asking a girl to Hogsmeade could be such a problem?

The rest of the lesson was spent taking turns at looking through the telescope. Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to be looking for but Padma was getting on with it so he wasn't that concerned.

It was only when Sinistra told them to start packing up that he decided to take some action. It was now or never.

"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade next week?" His voice was quieter than usual since he didn't want Ron to hear what he was doing.

Padma gave a small nod as she pushed an invisible piece of hair behind her right ear. She was also smiling. "OK, I'd love to."

"Great! I mean, good; that's really good." They both started smiling stupidly at each other. Harry was sure he looked like an idiot but he didn't care.

They were both still smiling when it became time to say goodnight. Harry really couldn't remember why he'd been so worried about asking Padma out. It hadn't been that bad at all.

"So how come you look like the guy who got the veela?"Seamus asked him once the Ravenclaws had disappeared from view.

"What?" said Harry, his concentration focused mostly on the spot where Padma had been waving goodbye from a few seconds before. "Oh, well, I'm sort of going to Hogsmeade with Padma."

In front of them, Parvati and Lavender suddenly started giggling amongst themselves. More precisely, they looked at Harry, whispered something and then start to giggle. It was more than a little off-putting.

Dean was rather excessive in his reaction. "You lucky bastard! She's one of the best looking girls in the year!"

A now frowning Lavender Brown turned round and jabbed the black boy at that. Dean hurriedly added her to the list of most desirable girls in fourth year.

Ron gave him a funny look. "Since when have you been interested in Padma Patil?"

Harry was prevented from answering by Hermione. "Honestly, Ron, how did you not notice? You really are exasperating at times."

Dean sniggered at that.

"Yeah, well at least I'm not an insufferable know-it-all," Ron retorted.

Hermione's face twisted into a mix of hurt and outrage, her eyes boring into Ron's. She then huffed quite loudly before striding off ahead of the group, only pausing to give the Fat Lady the password ("Mothballs").

"What did I say?" asked Ron, his palms turned up in question.

Parvati and Lavender gave him a filthy look before quickly following after Hermione.

"What did I say?" repeated Ron, looking at the four Gryffindor boys.

"You called her an insufferable know-it-all is what I think you said," answered Seamus.

"You're not helping." Ron then sighed. "Why do girls have to get all emotional about everything?"

"Hormones," said Dean sagely, and they all laughed.

000

By the time the next weekend came around, Ron had made up with Hermione and Harry had become slightly worried as to what one did in Hogsmeade when accompanied by a girl.

In growing trepidation, Harry had turned to Hermione. Harry had never known her not to have an answer, and it was a bit of a plus that she happened to be of the female variety. Living up to her knowledgeable reputation, she had sat him down and explained that he ought to do exactly what he did whenever he went into Hogsmeade usually.

Her words – "honestly, Harry, you're worrying over nothing" – ran through his head as he waited for Padma in the Entrance Hall. His hands had grown increasingly sweaty as he waited and he had to keep brushing them against his jeans. His mouth was also suspiciously dry.

Padma was ten minutes late when she finally appeared from the marble staircase with Lisa and Mandy in tow. The other two Ravenclaws whispered something to her before waving her goodbye, smiles glued to their faces. The sight only made Harry that much more nervous.

"Sorry I'm late," said Padma looking very apologetic.

"It's fine. Er - you look nice." Her long hair was loose from its normal plait and fell in a glossy black curtain around her face. She was wearing a dark green coat that stopped just before her knees with a pair of black denim jeans moulding the shape of her legs.

"Thanks." She smiled at him prettily.

"Should we?"Harry asked, doing a small gesture to the doorway.

She nodded and they made their way out of the castle and into a waiting horseless carriage.

By the time they reached Hogsmeade, any awkwardness Harry had felt had dissipated as they fell into easy and familiar conversation. Remembering Terry's attempt at creating an ode to Dobby had been particularly amusing, especially with the dubious beginning of:

"Freedom agrees with him in an odd way,

But odder still is his tea cosy hat!"

"I don't remember that being here before," said Padma once he had helped her down from the carriage. She was pointing at a wooden bench just outside of the train station's main body.

"It must be new," said Harry distractedly. He was remembering the last Hogsmeade visit and Duncan MacTavish's strange behaviour when questioned about how exactly his associate died.

Padma had now moved in front of the bench and began to read aloud the words on the oval brass plaque in the centre. "In memory of Ernest James Thompson, 1941-94. I wonder who he was."

"Train driver," answered Harry who had walked forward so he was now standing beside her. "He died on the night we came to Hogwarts."

"That's horrible. How did he die?"

"I don't know. No one seems to want to answer that question."

She gave him a curious look at that and Harry soon found himself recounting what he'd seen on September 1st and how Duncan MacTavish had fearfully told Ron, Hermione and him to leave the matter well alone.

"It all sounds a bit strange," commented Padma as they meandered through the cobbled high street.

"Very," said Harry. He wondered whether to mention the time when Abravan had suddenly turned up in Myrtle's bathroom on Halloween. After a slight consideration Harry decided against bringing it up; he didn't fancy having to explain why he was in a girls' bathroom.

"So where do you want to go?"

"Honeydukes?" Padma grinned at him.

"Let me guess – you need more sugar quills."

She tried to look innocent. "Maybe."

Harry laughed before taking her hand in his and heading towards Honeydukes.

The shop was mobbed with people and they found themselves squeezing through to the row where sugar quills poked out of glass jars. In the row beneath there was a wooden plaque that flashed with the words 'Brand New'. Taking a closer look they saw delicately thin sheets of white labelled 'sugar paper' stacked up. Next to that were small ink pots filled with different coloured liquids. A sign beside them listed them as pots of edible ink and gave an explanation as to which colour was what flavour.

"Banana flavoured really doesn't look very appetising," commented Padma as she lifted an ink pot filled with a gooey, pale yellow liquid. Her nose was scrunched in distaste.

"Very nice," said Harry. "Now I know what to get you for your birthday."

She elbowed him good-naturedly. "Do you want to get anything?"

"Just some chocolate and a bit of fudge. You can go and pay for your quills and then wait outside since I won't be long. It's a bit mad in here."

"I'll wait with you," said Padma, smiling. "Besides, with you in front it means I can protect my precious sugar quills from any breaks."

"I should have realised there was a reason for you agreeing to come to Hogsmeade with me," said Harry with a mock sigh.

She laughed and nudged him slightly. "Come on, let's hurry up and get your chocolate so we can escape this crowd."

As they squeezed through the swarm of people, Padma suddenly tripped and fell into the back of another girl. She immediately started to apologise when the dark-haired girl turned round.

"Can't you watch where you're going?" sneered the pale form of Emily Gerard before she strode off.

Both Padma and Harry looked at each other. "I said I was sorry," said Padma quietly.

"That's Slytherins for you," Harry told her.

She laughed at that. "You and your house stereotypes. I happen to have a friend or two in Slytherin and I can tell you now that neither of them is a Draco Malfoy replica, even if I do sometimes think that Theo might be cheating on our Runes tests."

"Theo?" questioned Harry, his brows slightly creased.

"My Ancient Runes partner," said Padma as Harry picked up some chocolate. "He had the choice between me, Hermione or Pansy Parkinson back in third year and I was supposedly the best candidate, or so he later told me."

"Oh," said Harry, unsure what else to say to that. "Hang on – how come you didn't sit next to Hermione?"

She looked slightly embarrassed. "Do you want the truth?"

Harry nodded as they made their way over to the counter to collect some fudge and pay for their purchases.

"Well, she's a bit intimidating. That sounds really horrible, and I know she's your friend, but, well," she was struggling to find the right words.

"She's an insufferable know-it-all who makes you feel like you know absolutely nothing," said Harry as he paid for his chocolate and fudge.

"I don't think I would have put it _quite _like that. I just don't understand how she knows so much." Padma handed over a Sickle to Mr Flume, the owner of Honeydukes, to pay for her Sugar Quills.

They continued talking once they squeezed outside. "She wouldn't be Hermione if she didn't have all that knowledge. I don't even know how she knows so much and I'm her best friend. I think it's one of those things that you just have to accept, like the fact that magic just happens to exist or that all the Weasleys have ginger hair."

Across the road Harry spotted Neville walking along with a girl Harry recognised as a seventh year Hufflepuff. It was strange seeing the slightly podgy and still rather short Neville walking next to a tall, stick-thin girl. What was even more unusual was seeing the usually quiet Neville jabbering away to his companion.

Harry also found himself surprised when Neville spotted him and Padma and wandered over. "Hi Harry, Padma."

"Hey," said Harry, raising a hand in greeting. He couldn't pick out any other time when Neville had been so chipper and unselfconscious.

"This is Nadia. She's tutoring me in Potions," he said, gesturing to his tall companion. She had cropped black hair and heavy make-up outlined her large dark eyes. She didn't seem totally aware of what was going on and remained quiet when Harry and Padma greeted her.

"We're heading to the Hog's Head," Neville told them excitedly. "I've never been but Nadia says it's quieter than the Three Broomsticks."

"Right," said Harry, unsure what else he was supposed to say; he'd always considered the Hog's Head a place to avoid. That Neville would even venture in there seemed extremely peculiar. "I'll see you back at Hogwarts later, then."

Neville smiled cheerfully and quickly departed with the still silent Nadia.

"Was it just me," said Harry slowly, "or was that really odd?"

Padma nodded. "Yeah, it was a bit. It's strange to imagine Neville Longbottom going to the Hog's Head."

"Let alone with a girl!"

Padma laughed at that. "That's not a nice thing to say!"

"You're the one who laughed," pointed out Harry.

She gave him a half-hearted nudge, smiling all the while. This of course ended up in a battle of who could nudge each other more until Harry suggested that they should maybe get something to eat.

Padma nodded her agreement and with an unspoken consensus they headed for the Three Broomsticks.

The warmth of the pub hit them as they entered bringing a flush of warmth to Harry's cheeks and he only became redder when he saw the Weasley twins sitting near to the door opening. Opposite them sat Alicia and Angelina. He was treated to a round of greetings that included a wink from Fred and a smug look from Alicia.

More than a little embarrassed, he quickly tugged Padma further into the pub and away from his fellow Quidditch team members. Moving quickly through the cheerfully rowdy crowd of Hogwarts students they managed to find a spare table quite near to the crackling fireplace.

Despite the number of people in the pub they were able to get served rather quickly and were soon munching away on a large bowl of chips with two butterbeers between them.

"Do you think she looked a bit ill?" asked Padma suddenly when there was a brief pause in the conversation.

"Who?" Harry wondered whether he'd missed something; they had just been discussing Charms Club.

"That Slytherin girl – Emily Gerard. She looked really pale thinking back on it."

"I suppose," said Harry.

"Wait a minute, wasn't she the one in the Slytherin common room at Christmas?"

Harry nodded.

"Did you ever figure out who the other person was?" she asked and Harry remembered how he told her that he'd look into it.

"No, but I've got a few suggestions." He didn't feel the need to mention that the suggestions were actually Sirius's. "It could have been a ghost, or a portrait or just some object that can speak like a mirror or something."

Padma took on a thoughtful look. "What about the footsteps? It sounded more like two sets than just one."

"I hadn't thought of that," he admitted.

"I could be wrong," said Padma quickly with a slight shrug. "It just all seems a bit odd."

Harry couldn't help agreeing with that. There were a number of things that just didn't add up from the train driver's mysterious death to the discrepancy on the Marauders' Map, not to mention Harry's gut feeling that there was something strange about Professor Abravan.

But the subject was left alone for the rest of the afternoon as they strolled around Hogsmeade. Neither really needed anything so they mainly just window shopped. Harry did at one point have to dissuade Padma from going into Dervish and Banges as he remembered the crotchety Dervish on his last visit.

When the sky began to darken they made the decision to head back to the castle. By unspoken agreement they decided to walk back instead of waiting for a carriage. Walking also had the added bonus that it would take longer to get back.

As they approached the main castle entrance on its cliff top promontory, conversation descended into a comfortable silence. They had just agreed to suggest to the others that they use the Room of Requirements instead of the library for their now regular Thursday morning study sessions and Harry didn't know what to say next.

When they came to the main doors they came to a stop, neither of them seeming to want to go in just yet.

"I've really enjoyed today," said Padma quietly while she pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear.

"So have I," he told her. "We should do something like this again."

Padma smiled. "I'd like that."

They stared at each other for a moment, both of them unsure as to how to proceed when something flew into Harry, forcing him to stumble back a few paces.

"Sorry," piped up a squeaky voice. The small, mousy-haired boy only just reached Harry's eye level and was looking with wide eyes between the startled Padma and Harry. The boy looked familiar but Harry's mind drew a blank when he searched for a name.

The boy seemed rather frantic as wide brown eyes flickered between Harry and Padma. "Have you seen a teacher?"

"Sorry," said Padma who looked slightly concerned at the boy's frenzied behaviour. "We've only just got back from Hogsmeade. Is there anything we can help you with?"

"Professor Trelawney's on top of the North Tower!"

"What?" asked Harry as he wondered whether he'd heard right.

"Colin sent me to find a teacher to get her back in," the boy rushed on, "so I really need to find a teacher."

Dennis Creevey – after the mention of Colin, Harry had finally twigged on to who exactly the boy was – moved to open the door before turning back round to face them. "Do either of you happen to know where McGonagall's office is? It's just I've never been there so..."

"We'll show you," said Padma with a kind smile, her eyes hinting at her concern at the situation. She then turned to Harry and quietly asked, "You don't mind, do you?"

Harry shook his head. His mind was trying to figure out why exactly Trelawney would be standing outside her tower. He half wondered whether the Creevey brothers were suffering from an overactive imagination. But there seemed little time to debate the veracity of the claim considering its serious nature.

"Thanks!" A huge, toothy smile stretched across Dennis's face before he grew serious. "But we better hurry."

McGonagall's office was located on the first floor so they scrambled up the marble staircase and rushed down the hallway. Having knocked on the door, they waited keenly for an answer. When none came Harry became a bit more forceful.

"It seems to me that no matter how hard you hit that door no one will be answering it." Harry jumped slightly when he heard the new voice. Turning quickly he saw Abravan walking towards them. "Professor McGonagall is at this very moment still in Hogsmeade."

Harry was about to calmly explain the situation when Dennis jumped in first. "Professor! You've got to come quick – Professor Trelawney is on top of the North Tower!"

Abravan's only reaction was a distinct lifting of his bushy eyebrows and a widening of his big, dark blue eyes. He stared at Dennis for a long time. "And you're certain of this, lad?"

Dennis nodded his head. "Me and my brother saw her. We were taking some photos of the castle to send home when we suddenly saw someone standing on the tower. Colin's still out there watching her."

The Defence professor became thoughtful before he came to a decision. His eyes looked at them each in turn. "We'll be needing someone to go and inform the headmaster."

"I'll do it," piped up Dennis enthusiastically.

"Right then, lad. His office be on the second floor. Take the second right, then the first left and then a left which will be taking you to an empty corridor. Half-way down there's a stone gargoyle. Password's 'jelly baby'. You be understanding all that now, lad?

Dennis nodded before racing off down the corridor.

Abravan looked closely at Harry and Padma. "You two will be coming with me. I might be needing some help with this."

He didn't give them time to back out as he strode quickly down the corridor. The two students had little choice but to follow on behind, both having to jog to keep up with the professor.

They raced through corridors while the portraits looked on with vague interest. Tapestries were batted out of the way as Abravan led them up sloping passages and creaking staircases. The Defence professor seemed to have an uncanny knowledge of the castle's layout as he led them up the spiralling staircase and climbed up the silvery ladder that allowed them to enter the Divination classroom through the ceiling trapdoor.

Dim pools of crimson light from lamps draped in deep red scarves illuminated the empty classroom. Padma was looking around curiously, tracing her fingers across the dusty shelves lining the circular room as she scanned the array of candle stubs, crinkled tarot cards and silvery crystal balls. Her nose was scrunched in obvious distaste as she smelt the sickly perfume that pervaded the room from the still burning fire.

Abravan made his way straight over to the drawn curtains that concealed the tower's windows. Pulling them open they were able to see that each of the windows was sealed shut.

"Professor?" said Harry, looking at the table nearest to Professor Trelawney's winged armchair. More precisely, he was looking at the empty bottle of sherry and the two fluted wine glasses that held only the dregs of the deep red beverage.

Abravan took in the items with a frown before turning back towards the windows. Undoing the catch he opened one set and peered out into the evening sky. The Defence professor then drew his head back inside and turned to look at the two students. "It seems the lad was right."

"Trelawney's really out there?" Somehow, Harry hadn't quite believed that his slightly batty Divination teacher was actually wandering around outside of the North Tower. He'd been half-convinced that the Creevey brothers had been imagining things. "Can't you just summon her?"

Abravan gave him an unimpressed look before turning back to the window.

"You can't summon people," Padma told him quietly as she moved to stand next to him. "Flitwick mentioned it briefly. Something to do with a natural resistance or something like that."

Harry vaguely remembered Flitwick mumbling something like that as they practiced the charm but he'd had such a difficult time grasping it that he'd tuned out most of the dwarf-sized professor's words. As it was, he'd only gotten the hang of it during Charms Club when Flitwick had gone over the wand motions again with him.

Abravan was still half-leaning out of the window while Padma and Harry stood around, both feeling a bit superfluous. Harry was actually wondering how he'd gone from having an enjoyable day spent in Hogsmeade to being stuck in the North Tower while Trelawney was doing God knows what outside.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Padma asked.

The Defence professor turned and looked at them. His expression was grim and in the crimson light his face suddenly looked drawn and weary and so very old. "I can't be thinking of much to do. She's made her way onto part of the battlements now. Not quite sure how she be managing that. Wonders never cease."

He moved away from the window then and gestured for them to have a look.

Looking down the first thing Harry noticed was how far up they were. About nine floors, he estimated as he stared down at the darkened ground. Lights from windows in other parts of the school glinted in the dark and provided an outline of the castle structure.

Professor Trelawney stood half a level below them on a thin balcony encircling the tower. It was basically a ledge enclosed with a short, crenellated wall which Trelawney had climbed onto. Her thin, spindly form wavered with the wind as she wobbled along the stone battlements in a dangerous stepping stones-like game. A gauzy shawl was draped loosely over her shoulders and bangles hung limply from her arms that flexed in a half-hearted attempt of keeping balance.

"What's she doing?" asked Padma aloud. Her dark eyes were wide in shock as she gazed transfixed at the sight below her.

"I don't know," said Harry. He turned to ask Abravan what they were going to do when he noticed the newly conjured piece of rope that the Defence professor was securing to one of the wooden beams that stretched across the length of the tower room.

"It'd be easier for me to go down to her," Harry told his teacher as he looked from Abravan's sturdy form to the rather small window.

"I know, lad," Abravan told him. "That was the plan."

"Oh. Right." For some reason, knowing that Abravan had been planning to send him down to collect Trelawney made him wish he didn't have to despite his offer. But it was impossible to back out and Harry soon found himself being lowered down from the window, Abravan's advice ringing in his ears: maintain eye contact, don't startle her and keep talking.

"Be careful," Padma told him quietly, her eyes glinting with concern as he moved out of view of the window.

His feet finally touched solid ground as he came into land just over a metre away from where she stood. "Professor Trelawney?" he said quietly.

She slowly turned around. Light from the classroom above shone down onto her face. Her eyes held a strange vacancy and Harry had the distinct feeling that she wasn't really seeing him. Her lips were pulled into an inane smile.

Seeing her expression, Harry felt the first stirrings of panic. Before seeing her he hadn't entertained the possibility that she might actually jump. His lips felt suspiciously dry.

"Professor, you need to come away from there. It isn't safe." He edged towards her, arms part outstretched.

"I was waiting," she said. Her eyes flicked upwards to the top of the tower. She smiled at him.

"Please, Professor, you need-"

"Goodbye, my dear," she told him airily, smiling all the while. Then she let herself fall backwards.

"No!" He raced to the side and watched in time to see her descent. Arms thrown up towards him. Wind whipping against her hair. Falling further and further until she disappeared into the dark abyss.

A dull thud echoed upwards disrupting the stillness of the evening. Bile rose up inside him. Turning away from the edge he spewed his lunch over the floor.

"There was nothing you could do, lad," Abravan told him a few minutes later as he was pulled back into the Divination classroom.

Harry nodded, not meeting the Defence professor's eyes. He swallowed, still feeling the burn of stomach acid lining his mouth.

He walked over to the pouffe Padma was sitting on. Small tremors riddled her body. She tried to smile at him but failed dismally."I don't understand."

"Neither do I," Harry told her honestly.

Suddenly she was crying.

"Hey," said Harry quietly, sitting himself next to her. "It wasn't your fault."

She leaned into him, her tears wetting his top. Her body was shaking uncontrollably. Unsure quite what to do, he patted her on the back.

"I see I am too late," said a familiar voice a few minutes later.

Looking around towards the ceiling entrance, Harry noticed Dumbledore's presence. The headmaster looked weary as he gazed around the Divination classroom. His lips quirked upwards as he spotted the collection of crystal balls before quickly becoming sombre once again.

Dumbledore glanced in Harry's direction before making his way over to Abravan. Their lips moved in a short conversation but Harry didn't hear any sounds. Privacy charm of some sort, he guessed and for a moment wished he could lip-read to be able to understand what they were saying.

The conversation finished abruptly. Dumbledore didn't look especially pleased while Abravan remained expressionless. The headmaster then sighed and gave Harry a long look before departing the room.

"We better be taking her to the hospital wing," said Abravan.

"What?" said Harry distractedly; he was still looking at the trapdoor Dumbledore had left through.

"It seems to me she's in shock. Madame Pomfrey will get her sorted out."

Harry nodded his agreement and helped a still shaking Padma up from her seat. Together with Abravan he escorted the unresponsive witch out of the north tower and to the hospital wing.

Madame Pomfrey moved out of her office to greet them, frowning as she looked over Padma. She turned to Abravan. "What happened?"

"She's in shock."

"I can see that. Can you shed some light as to why?"

"Deal with her first and then I'll tell you the tale."

The school nurse didn't look too pleased by that but she agreed nonetheless and collected a blue vial from a nearby cabinet. "Calming draught," she informed them as she sat Padma down and forced her to take a large swig.

Madame Pomfrey then turned to look at Harry. "And what about you?"

"The lad's fine, Poppy," Abravan said before he could reply. "He's made of sturdier stuff."

The school nurse huffed at that but didn't say anything as she pointedly looked at Abravan. "This better not be another strange occurrence."

Harry wondered what she was talking about for a moment before remembering the train driver's body being wheeled into the hospital wing at the beginning of the year.

"Trelawney's dead," Abravan told her bluntly.

"_Sybil_? Sybil's dead?" She looked horrified. "_How_?"

"Decided it'd be a good plan to go about jumping from her tower. We saw the whole thing."

Madame Pomfrey fell on the bed next to Padma. Her eyes belied her shock as she shook her head before covering her mouth with a hand. "I..."

"Dumbledore will be making an announcement and there's to be a full staff meeting before the students are told. He's gone off to be getting the proper authorities in."

"Do you think...?"

"Most likely. She wasn't to be knowing what was going on."

Madame Pomfrey shook her head. "Oh, Circe..."

"Dumbledore was wanting you to be staying here with these two. Another will no doubt be coming along soon. He'll have been watching from the ground."

"Poor child."

"But I'll need to be going now. There are things I need to be doing."

The school nurse nodded in understanding, her professional mask slipping back into place. "Of course. I'll stay here with the students."

"I'll be sure to be letting you know what's going on," he told her before making his way out of the hospital wing.

Madame Pomfrey sighed deeply before turning towards Harry and Padma. "Right, well, it seems we might be here for a while."

Harry smiled weakly at her.

"Right then," she said briskly, "Miss Patil can have this bed. I imagine that the Draught of Serenity will put her to sleep after everything she's seen."

Her prediction was correct and Padma soon drifted off into sleep. She was soon followed by a shaken Colin who entered the hospital wing and unhesitatingly swallowed the calming draught the nurse handed him. He soon collapsed onto a hospital bed, camera still in hand.

Madame Pomfrey soon disappeared into her office leaving Harry to go over her and Abravan's conversation from earlier. He refused to allow himself to think about Trelawney's freefalling form.

"Harry?"

"What?" said Harry coming out of his reverie.

The nurse gave him a concerned look. "Professor Dumbledore is calling a meeting in the Great Hall. He hopes that you will go along, but it is entirely up to you. I don't mind if you want to stay here tonight, considering. In fact, I'd prefer if you stayed here."

"No, I'll go," he told her. He'd never been a great fan of the hospital wing. Probably since every time he'd ended up there it had been for unpleasant reasons.

She didn't look surprised by his decision but pursed her lips in disapproval nonetheless. "The choice is entirely up to you, of course."

She then moved to walk back into her office. "Madame Pomfrey?"

She turned back to face him. "Yes, Mr Potter?"

"What did you mean back when you were talking to Professor Abravan?"

At her blank look he expanded. "You know, when you said 'Do you think?'"

She frowned at him slightly. "Nothing that you need to worry about so put it out of your mind."

That said, she strode back into her office and Harry could feel her eyes watching him as he walked out of the hospital wing on his way to the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was decorated with black drapes. All the students were also dressed in their black school robes and Harry momentarily felt self-conscious about his casual appearance. The thought didn't last long as he slid in between Ron and Hermione who were looking at him in curiosity; they obviously didn't know what this was about. Hermione looked like she wanted to say something but couldn't as Dumbledore stood up to speak.

He seemed to hone in on Harry before addressing the whole school. "It is my sad and regretful duty that I should be standing here right now telling you what I am about to tell you. I have often felt that Hogwarts is like a community - almost a family, if you will - and it is with the greatest sadness that I must inform you that one of our number has passed away and begun their next great adventure.

"Professor Sybil Trelawney was a witch who strongly believed in her chosen craft of Divination. She dedicated much of her life to studying it and to sharing her subject with her students. Her loss will be greatly felt and her passion for Divination greatly missed.

"I now ask you to join with me in a moment of silence for Professor Trelawney. For in life she looked to the future, and now I ask you to look back on your memories of her and carry them with you into that undiscovered future that she dedicated her life to uncovering."

The whole hall fell silent in a mark of respect for the newly deceased. With his head bent Harry glanced around at the shocked faces of the other Gryffindors. Many of them didn't know what to make of the startling announcement.

"Thank you," said Dumbledore after a few minutes silence before he sat back down in his chair. It was a clear dismissal.

Part of Harry wished he'd stayed in the hospital wing as they made their way up to Gryffindor tower. Hermione, he knew, would start in on the questions as soon as they entered the common room.

Indeed, as soon as the Fat Lady swung closed Hermione's mouth opened to speak.

"Can we talk about this tomorrow, or something?" he half-asked. "I just want to go to sleep right now and forget."

"Oh. OK, then," said Hermione, blinking slightly.

He hurried up the stairs to his dormitory and after a quick shower and change of clothes he slipped into bed, pulling his curtains closed around him.

Sleep evaded him, however. He lay awake for hours listening as the others came up, shared a few comments about Trelawney and then crawled into their respective beds.

Images of her freefall into the air haunted him until exhaustion finally forced him into Morpheus's embrace. His last thought before drifting off at last was to wonder how such a good day had turned so bad in just a matter of hours. He really did have the worst luck sometimes.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Even after this long a wait, I still own nothing.

Author's Note: First things first, I'm _so_ sorry for how long this has taken me. Real life took over for several months with a viva in December and my Spring Exam in February, so I spent a lot of time revising. After the exam, I did a lot of procrastinating and mainly just enjoyed the rest of the term (I even had someone try and convince me that they worked for the MoD which was highly amusing). But this chapter has been in the back of my mind, niggling away and making me feel so guilty. I don't think I've ever rewritten so much before. It's all been unbelievably irritating. As always, thanks to those who reviewed (it was quite nice to know people were still reading this after so long without an update) and a major thank you to Diogenes for checking through this for me. Hopefully it's OKish.

Chapter Fourteen

"Peppermint toads!" The stone gargoyle hopped aside and allowed them entry to the spiral staircase that had previously been concealed behind the now sliced open wall. Harry dutifully followed Professor McGonagall onto the rising staircase, absent-mindedly registering that the password to Dumbledore's office had changed from two years previous, though the sweet theme still remained.

Vague and indistinct murmurs could be heard as they swiftly approached the oak door. McGonagall gave him a tight smile that was clearly meant to reassure him before she lifted the griffon-shaped knocker.

She had collected him from the Great Hall midway through breakfast. He had been sitting alone, having left the Gryffindor tower while Ron was still asleep and Hermione nowhere to be seen. Part of him had hoped that Padma might be there, but she too had been absent.

At the knock, the voices from within the headmaster's office quietened. "Come in, Professor McGonagall."

His head of house gave him one last look before she pushed the door open to reveal Dumbledore's office. Pale sunlight streamed in from the windows while a roaring fire blazed merrily to one side of the room, the scent of crackling firewood mingling with the smell of musty old tomes. Some of the strange objects spread out through the room emitted the occasional odd sound.

Portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses peered at him from their frames. Some were pretending to sleep and only occasionally opening a single eye to see what was going on. Others were rather more obvious in their observations; one of the portraits – a rather voluptuous woman with a powdered face and a mountainous blond wig – had taken out a pair of opera glasses to get a closer view.

The headmaster stood behind his desk, his back to Harry and the professor as he stared out of the large window. One hand gripped his high backed chair.

Dumbledore wasn't alone. Standing beside the burning fire, a middle-age man dressed in royal blue robes skimmed his hand along the polished wood of the oak fireplace. Piercing blue eyes set in an angular face watched on, slowly lifting upwards as they focused in on the infamous lightning bolt scar.

Feeling awkward under so direct a gaze, Harry turned his attention to the woman sitting on the visitor's chair. A small smile graced her young, impish face as she twisted round to look at where he and McGonagall stood. Dark brown hair was pulled back from her face except for a few escaped curls which had sprung loose.

Dumbledore turned around. "Ah, there you are, Harry." He gave him a small smile and gestured him further into his office. He then looked towards Professor McGonagall and nodded at her in dismissal. "That will be all, Minerva."

For a moment it looked to Harry that Professor McGonagall may protest, but a pointed look from Dumbledore had her giving a sharp nod in acquiescence. She gave one last concerned look in Harry's direction before exiting the office.

"I would like to introduce you to Auror Morton," Dumbledore gestured to the man standing by the fireplace, "and his partner Auror Proudfoot." The woman smiled, her eyes similarly making the familiar trail across his forehead.

Harry nodded in acknowledgment, unsure whether he was supposed to say anything. He swore he could remember the name Morton from somewhere, but for the life of him he couldn't remember where.

"They are here to investigate the incident yesterday evening," continued Dumbledore, confirming what Harry had already guessed.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions about what happened," said Morton, speaking for the first time. He abandoned his current position and strode nearer to the desk.

"Oh, right," said Harry since Morton's sharp eyes were looking at him expectantly. "That's fine."

Before long, Harry found himself sitting in a conjured chair next to Dumbledore while he explained in detail what had happened the previous night. The headmaster had given him a brief explanation that, since Harry was a minor in the eyes of the law, he would be acting as his guardian throughout the interview.

As he answered each question thrown at him, a quill rushed across a long piece of parchment recording everything he was saying. He found the unmanned scribblings rather off-putting but decided not to voice such an opinion out loud.

Morton kept a professional air throughout the whole thing; his face remained stoic and his eyes gave nothing away. He would occasionally nod at something and probe deeper while other details were glossed over.

Proudfoot, on the other hand, was less able to conceal her thoughts on certain aspects. For instance, when Harry mentioned how it was Abravan leading them to the North Tower, she had immediately glanced in Morton's direction.

Eventually the interview came to an end and the Aurors made to leave. "Thank you for your time and cooperation. It is possible that we may have to interview you again at a later date, but it is unlikely."

Harry nodded in understanding as he too got up. "Er – is the death suspicious, then?" It was something he'd been wondering since the Aurors had been introduced. After all, it wasn't as though he'd been interviewed over anything else during his time at Hogwarts, and there had certainly been occasions where he was pretty certain the Aurors should have been involved.

"That hasn't yet been decided," Morton told him with a frown.

"At the moment it seems like death through misadventure, but we've got to follow procedure," said Proudfoot with a small, almost apologetic shrug.

"Oh," said Harry since he couldn't think of a better response.

He was still thinking about it as he descended the spiral staircase and walked past the stone gargoyle. He thought about the look in Trelawney's eyes – that not-quite-there gleam – before she let herself fall. It didn't seem like a tragic accident to him.

He was so lost in thought that he almost walked into Padma. It was only her saying his name that brought him back to reality.

"Sorry, I was miles away," he said, quickly taking in her appearance. She looked pale and drawn. There was a tightness around her eyes that hadn't been present before, and her attempt at a smile didn't make it further than a twitching of the lips. "You OK?"

"I've had better days," she said with a slight shrug and a small wrinkle of her nose. "I still can't..."

"I know."

There was a moment of silence.

"I'm guessing you're going to see Dumbledore," said Harry for lack of anything better to say. He wanted to take away that drawn look but wasn't sure how he could.

She nodded. "Madame Pomfrey told me I needed to come here. I don't think she was pleased that you left the hospital wing last night. I heard her muttering under her breath."

"If she had her way I'd spend half the year in the hospital wing," said Harry with a half-grin that she weakly returned.

"Look," he told her with a sudden change of topic, "it's just two Aurors who ask you a bunch of questions about last night. If you want I can wait here for you."

"That's really nice of you, but you really don't have to. I don't want to be a pain."

"You're not a pain. Besides, I want to," he told her honestly.

She looked at him with tender eyes and he suddenly found himself being hugged. She pulled back slightly. "I-" she broke off and hugged him again. This time Harry moved to put his arms around her. He couldn't help but notice how certain parts of her body pressed into his chest in a way he'd never noticed when Hermione or Mrs Weasley had hugged him.

When she did eventually release him she was blushing and her eyes kept darting from him to the surrounding empty corridor. "Um, I should probably... They'll be expecting me." She made a small pointing action to where opened slice of wall was.

"I'll be waiting," he told her, smiling at how flustered she was.

She gave him a wide smile as she stepped onto the spiral staircase platform. "I'll try and be quick so you don't have to wait too long."

Harry just smiled back at her as the staircase swirled into action and left him standing in a deserted corridor with only the ugly stone gargoyle for company. Shooting a quick glance at the now stationary statue, he sat down so his back was propped up against the stone wall.

He checked his watch. Ten past nine.

He imagined most of his classmates would be in the Great Hall eating breakfast right about now. The black drapes from last night were still up and the single topic of conversation would be Trelawney; everyone would be putting their own theory of what had happened atop the North Tower.

Ron and Hermione would be wondering where he was. He could almost picture Hermione's head scanning all over the Great Hall in search of him while Ron continued to eat until he eventually got fed up with Hermione's search and told her to stop it. Thinking about the scene made him smile until he remembered that when they did catch up with him he'd be expected to go over the events of the previous night for the second time that day.

He checked his watch again. Twelve minutes past nine. He sighed and started to tap a tune out against his leg.

It was strange: in all his previous exploits Ron and Hermione had usually played a major role. Events had sometimes conspired to remove them from the finale - such as Hermione's petrification and Ron's broken leg - but this year it seemed like they weren't involved at all, like he was almost disconnected from them. He still considered them his best friends, but something had changed.

He supposed it had started after the World Cup when Hermione and Ron had disappeared off together for extended periods of time. He knew the reason for it now, but at the time he'd just felt like the odd one out. He hadn't realised quite how much time he spent with them till they weren't around to spend time with.

Then he'd met Padma. He smiled slightly at the thought of her and briefly wondered whether their visit to Hogsmeade could be counted as a date. That led him into wondering whether Padma could be considered his girlfriend. It was a bit of a woolly subject and he made a note to ask Hermione about it.

He let his thoughts drift around for a while. He had a Transfiguration test coming up on Tuesday which he needed to revise for. He still needed to finish an essay on some goblin rebellion that was due in tomorrow morning. He also needed to find out whether Hermione and Ron were staying at Hogwarts for Easter as they usually did. More to the point, he would have to ask Padma if she was staying.

The sound of someone humming pulled him out of his thoughts. Listening more closely he could make out the childhood tune of 'Ring a Ring 'o Roses'. The humming grew louder.

Rounding the corner came a skipping Luna Lovegood. Her long blond hair was in a tangled disarray and radish earrings jangled up and down with each skip. A vague expression lined her face and Harry was inexplicably reminded of Professor Trelawney just before she fell off her tower.

Luna stopped skipping just in front of him and her lips stretched into a smile. "Hello Harry Potter."

"Er, hi Luna." He quickly cast about for something to say. "Um, what are you doing around here?"

"Hunting for a Blibbering Humdinger," she told him as though it was the most normal thing in the world. "They're rather shy creatures, really, but they're attracted to the sound of nursery rhymes. They're not so afraid of children, you see."

"Well I hope you manage to find one then," he said because he couldn't think of anything to say and, while she may be a bit strange, he didn't want to hurt her feelings by suggesting that maybe the _Blibbering Humdinger didn't actually exist._

_She smiled at him with a dreamy look in her eyes. "I hope so, too. They are truly outstanding creatures," she said before continuing to skip down the corridor, this time humming a tune he didn't recognise._

_Shaking his head slightly at the oddness of Luna Lovegood, he once again checked the time. Nine twenty one. It seemed he'd be waiting around for quite a while to come._

_As it turned out, he only had to wait an extra twenty minutes before the gargoyle slid to one side and Padma appeared. She gave a small wave before stepping off the staircase to meet him._

_"I hope you weren't waiting that long," she said as way of greeting._

_Harry shrugged in reply. "How was it?"_

_"Not too bad," she said with a slight scrunch of her nose. "I'm just glad it was my dad who came instead of my mother."_

_"Your dad?"_

_"Yeah. Didn't they get – oh!" She broke off. "I'm sorry; I wasn't thinking. I just – I'm sorry."_

_"Don't worry about it." He'd gone long enough without parents that he didn't particularly miss their presence. That wasn't to say that he wouldn't give anything in the world to have them back, but he wasn't about to pine away for what would never be for the rest of his days. He remembered Dumbledore's words from his encounter with the Mirror of Erised – "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live"._

_"I'm such an idiot at times."_

_Harry grinned at that. "Surely a Ravenclaw can never be classed as an idiot. Where's the hope for the rest of us if the smartest house is filled with idiots?"_

_She nudged him at that before grinning in return. Together they set off in the vague direction of the Great Hall._

_"Now how come you didn't want your mum to act as your legal guardian?"_

_"She'd probably have wanted to withdraw me from school to recuperate from such a stressful incident or something like that. She worries a bit too much. She wanted to take us away from Hogwarts in second year, what with the whole students being petrified and everything, and I'm so relieved that she never heard about Sirius Black entering the castle last year or else we'd have been on our way to India in a roar of green flames."_

_Harry found himself mentally agreeing that it was a good thing her father had come to Hogwarts. He didn't quite like the idea that Padma could suddenly disappear off to India. It did make him wonder about some things, though._

_"How did she not hear about Sirius Black last year?" They walked down a rickety staircase that curved slightly in one direction, both of them unconsciously skipping the trick step._

_"We decided it was in our best interest not to owl that insignificant piece of news and thankfully the Daily Prophet didn't catch wind of anything. In fact, it's quite a good thing that most stuff concerning Hogwarts doesn't end up in the Prophet."_

_"I'm guessing Dumbledore manages to cover it up," said Harry who had been pondering that line of thought since his interview. After all, surely he should have been interviewed by the Aurors before over all the incidents in the last few years? That was, unless the Ministry wasn't entirely aware of what went on at Hogwarts._

_Padma nodded in agreement. "Dad always says Dumbledore's one to run things his way and that Hogwarts has always been separate from the Ministry's control." _

_They had come now to the marble staircase that would lead them down into the Entrance Hall. Seeing it, Harry turned to her. "Have you eaten breakfast yet?"_

_"I didn't have time." He saw her looking at the brightly polished staircase with a hint of apprehension._

_Over three years of being in the limelight – no matter how much he didn't wish to be – had taught Harry a few things. He knew, for example, that should he or Padma step into the Great Hall, hundreds of curious eyes would turn in their direction. The rumour mill would have already started speculating why Padma hadn't been present at yesterday's announcement and why Harry had turned up in informal dress. The obvious conclusion drawn would be the truth – they had somehow been involved with the Trelawney incident. All that would be left to do is snoop out all the details. _

_Harry had dealt with such attention over the last few years and still felt awkward under those prying eyes. He had a feeling that Padma, who seemed to still be dealing with the events of the previous night, wasn't really prepared to face what lay in wait in the Great Hall._

_He turned to her. "Do you want to go to the kitchens?"_

_Padma gave him a look of relief. "If you don't mind?"_

_"'Course not," he said with a smile. _

_They made their way down the marble staircase, bypassing the double doors leading to the Great Hall and instead making their way through the other door on that side of the wall. A couple of minutes later and they were in the kitchens._

_"Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby was flying towards him and Harry only just managed to stop the house-elf before he was engulfed in a hug. _

_"'Lo, Dobby," said Harry with a half-smile. "Er, we haven't really had any breakfast so-" instantly a group of house-elves approached carrying trays laden with bacon, eggs, toast, several types of cereal and a mixture of different fruits. They laid them down on the nearest table to where Harry and Padma stood._

_"Er – thank you," said Harry to the group of elves who all bowed very low before retreating. Shrugging at Padma, they both moved to sit down on the bench beside the table._

_As they ate, Dobby kept them entertained with his hero-worship of Terry (though Dobby referred to him as Harry Potter's Booty). It seemed Dobby had been the only one impressed with Terry's Ode to Dobby. "Not that your Booty can possibly compare to your greatness, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby had quickly reassured; he looked almost terrified that he might have possibly offended the Boy Who Lived._

_"I'm sure I'm not all that great," said Harry, who was very aware of Padma's presence._

_"Harry Potter is too humble and modest," Dobby declared._

_Feeling rather uncomfortable, Harry quickly diverted the conversation by asking whether Padma wanted any bacon._

_"I'm fine, thanks. I'm actually a vegetarian," she added looking a bit self-conscious. _

_"Oh. I didn't know that," said Harry to which she shook her head, smiling._

_There was a slight lull in the conversation as Harry finished off the last of the bacon. He gazed around the room taking in the house-elves as they worked. He looked on as one elf washed up a wine glass in a sink full of soapy suds before handing it to another elf to dry with a tea towel embroidered with the Hogwarts crest. Watching the scene, an idea occurred to him._

_"Dobby, did you hear about what happened to Professor Trelawney?"_

_In response Dobby's tennis-ball eyes lowered to the ground and his bat-like ears drooped, making the tea cosy on his head slip further down his small forehead. "A very bad thing, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby does not like to think of it. House-elves see too much."_

_"You said that before," said Harry as he recalled the first time he visited the kitchens. "But what does it mean? Have you seen something, Dobby?"_

_But Dobby was shaking his head and wasn't saying anything. _

_"Dobby, please? The Aurors are investigating the death and if you know anything then it could be really important. Dobby?" _

_"Dobby is not liking to be talking about it. No house-elf is." His tennis-ball eyes held a wary gleam as he looked around the kitchens. He then leaned in so the tea-cosy almost bumped into Harry's chin. "Something bad is in the castle, Harry Potter, sir. Old and lifeless. Professor Trelawney was not herself. Not herself for a while. Dobby cannot say anymore. Hogwarts protects her secrets."_

_Dobby looked away then and refused to meet Harry's eyes. He also remained silent, mutely shaking his head when Harry tried to pry further. In the end he had no other option than to drop the subject entirely._

_But as Harry and Padma got up to leave the kitchens, Dobby turned to them. His enormous eyes were solemn. "Be careful, Harry Potter. Hogwarts is not safe."_

_Outside of the kitchens the pair of them walked in a contemplative silence until they turned the corner. They both started speaking at the same time:_

_"What do you think-?"_

_"Was that just me or-?"_

_Sharing a chuckle, Harry indicated for her to speak. "No, you go ahead," she insisted._

_"I was just wondering what you made of that. Hogwarts is not safe." The ominous phrase hung in the air._

_"I don't know what to think. If someone had told me that yesterday I'd watch a professor jump from a tower then I would have thought them mad, but..." Her voice trailed off for a moment. "But it happened and I still don't understand why. Why would she jump? You were right there in front of her and she just let herself fall back. Why would anyone do that?"_

_Her voice broke and her eyes, now filled with unshed tears, looked at him in miserable confusion. Feeling hopelessly out of his depth, Harry patted her on the shoulder in comfort and soon found himself saying that he didn't understand it either, that no one in their right mind would do such a thing and that, most of all, he was sorry that she had been there to see it._

_Unfortunately for Harry this seemed to make things worse. She was now clinging to him and soaking his top with her tears - and likely some snot by the way she was sniffing. He tried not to think about the latter as he continued to pat her shoulder and mutter words of apology. Half of him wished someone would come along and help him out while the second half hoped no one would see him in such an awkward position._

_What might have been an hour later but was likely closer to ten minutes, Padma was mostly back to normal - if one discounted the redness around her eyes and the way she was concentrating on breathing normally. "I must seem like such an idiot. I'm really sorry about all this. I'm really sorry about your top, too."_

_It was true that there was now a large damp patch over the left side of his top. "It's fine," he told her. "It's a good thing I like you so much."_

_He caught her wide smile and the beginnings of a blush before she ducked her head out of view. "I quite like you, too," she said quietly as her hand pushed a lock of hair behind her ear._

_The rest of the walk back to the Entrance Hall was made in a silence of shared looks and smiles. Their hands sought each other's out and became loosely entwined. It felt like something important had happened even if Harry wasn't sure precisely what. _

_"I probably ought to go and find Mandy," she said as they walked up the marble staircase. "She'll probably be wondering what happened."_

_"Yeah," he agreed. "And I probably ought to go and find Ron and Hermione."_

_"I'll see you in Charms tomorrow, then?"_

_He nodded. "I'll see you then. You'll be alright, won't you?"_

_"I'll be fine. And sorry again for soaking your top. I'm not usually such a watering-pot."_

_"It's fine. Really."_

_There was a moment of hesitation where they just stood and faced each other. Padma then repeated that she ought to go with a self-conscious laugh and a vague gesture and started to walk away._

_He waited until she was ought of sight before starting to walk leisurely in the direction of the Gryffindor common room. There was no use putting off the inevitable._

_As soon as he entered the tower room he heard his name being called. Hermione and Ron were sitting together in one corner of the room. They quickly gestured him over._

_After a quick round of greetings, Ron began to expound on how glad he was that he no longer had to bother with his Divination homework. He was interrupted when Hermione elbowed him in the side. _

_"Hey!" cried Ron indignantly. "What was that for?"_

_But Hermione wasn't looking at him. Instead she was looking at Harry. "We didn't see you at breakfast."_

_"I had to go see Dumbledore."_

_Hermione bit on her lip slightly. "They're saying Trelawney jumped from the North Tower. Apparently Abravan and a couple of students saw the whole thing... You were one of the students there, weren't you?"_

_He nodded and suddenly he was telling them everything that had happened on top of the Divination tower. Speaking about it for the second time made him feel that much more disconnected from the whole thing, as though he was merely retelling someone else's version of what happened._

_"Oh, Harry," said Hermione when he finally stopped talking. She then got out of her chair and pulled him into a hug. "Why is it that these things always happen to you?"_

_"Bad luck?" he suggested weakly as she released him. He suddenly felt extremely awkward under Hermione's sympathetic gaze._

_In the background, Ron snorted. "You just seem to attract trouble."_

_Harry had to grin at that, and for a moment it felt like everything was back to normal; that it was just the three of them and that together they could face anything. _

_"Did Dumbledore want to hear what happened, then?" asked Ron, and so Harry went into explaining the Aurors' presence and what they thought about it. _

_As he talked about them he suddenly realised something. "They're the same Aurors who were investigating the death of that train driver – Ernest whatever-his-name-was."_

_Only he seemed excited by the epiphany, however. _

_"They're probably in charge of this area," Hermione dismissed. "They wouldn't have known the exact details of Professor Trelawney's death when they were assigned the case so I can't see how they'd be linked."_

_It was a valid point, but he couldn't help but look in Ron's direction for support. The red-headed boy just shrugged._

_"I wonder what will happen about Divination lessons," said Hermione in a clear change of subject. _

_"Probably just get a new teacher. It's not as though Divination's a cursed position. I just hope they're not as batty as good old Trelawney."_

_The conversation soon moved on to more inane things which frustrated Harry no end. There was a mystery here, he was sure of it: two strange deaths, Dobby's warning, and something that didn't show up on the Marauder's Map. There was also Abravan, but Harry wasn't sure what to think about the Defence professor anymore._

_"I'm going to Hagrid's," said Harry, who wondered whether the gamekeeper would know anything. That, and he hadn't seen Hagrid much outside of lessons for a while. "Either of you want to come?"_

_"Sure," said Ron who started putting away his History essay. He'd only written two sentences and already seemed bored with it._

_"You do realise that's due in for tomorrow," Hermione told him with a frown. "And you've got to work on your Engorging Charm."_

_Ron groaned. "Fine, I'll stay here and finish this bloody essay and figure out the stupid Engorging Charm."_

_Harry looked at Hermione for an answer._

_"I've got to revise for the Transfiguration test and I said I'd help out with the Engorging Charm. Tell Hagrid I said hi, though."_

_Harry promised to do so before making his way out of the common room and outside onto the castle grounds. He only hoped that Hagrid was in and not down in Hogsmeade._

_This, however, seemed the likeliest explanation when he knocked on the door of Hagrid's hut and received no answer. He knocked again, saying aloud Hagrid's name but he already knew – the hut was empty._

_"Great," he muttered to himself before sighing. "Just great."_

_He probably ought to go back to the common room and do his own History essay. Somehow the prospect didn't excite him._

_Without really thinking of a final destination, he started to walk back to the castle. Instead of going within, however, he found himself walking around the castle's walls. _

_As he approached the northern part of the castle he noticed a small, khaki-coloured tent had been put up. A couple of people dressed in royal blue robes were crouching down to examine something on the ground while a man clothed in lilac was holding a camera and taking photos. _

_A few minutes later someone appeared to have spotted him. One of the figures in blue began to walk in his direction._

_"I'm sorry, but this is a crime scene and I'm going to- oh! It's you."_

_It was Auror Proudfoot. "I didn't recognise you. Too short-sighted, you see. We've been having students try and get a look all morning."_

_"Oh," said Harry. "I was just walking and saw the tent."_

_"Ah, of course," said Proudfoot with such exaggeration that he knew she didn't really believe him. He couldn't be annoyed by the implication, however, since she was then asking him whether he wanted a closer look._

_"Is that allowed?" _

_"Not strictly, but what the hell. There is a bit of extra flexibility since you're a witness, and if anyone asks just say how you're thinking about becoming an Auror when you graduate and this is like work experience or something. It's not like this case is anything really important. So do you want a closer look?"_

_He agreed at once which had Proudfoot grinning. She quickly led him back towards the tent._

_"First I better introduce you to everyone. The one with the camera's Phil, and this here is our magical residue guru, Morris. No one calls him that, though."_

_Harry looked over the stocky man with his shiny bald patch and greying beard. "What do you call him?"_

_"Ducky. No idea why, so don't bother asking."_

_"Oi, I thought I told you to get rid of the kid, not bring him back for tea." Ducky was glowering in their direction with a scowl that made his beard twitch._

_"Witness who happens to be very interested in one day joining our humble organisation, so be nice."_

_"You're too like your granddad, you are."_

_Proudfoot grinned at him and called back as they entered the tent: "I take that as a compliment."_

_Harry looked at her in question._

_"My family's been Aurors for years. Skips every generation more or less. Granddad used to let me tag along at times. Said it kept me out of trouble, can you believe. But now you get to see the hub of Auror activity."_

_Sitting inside the tent's rather large interior were two men drinking tea. Both wore the royal blue robes that he assumed were Auror uniforms. He recognised one as Morton. The other looked relatively young (it was always so hard to tell with wizards) with no particular stand-out feature: brown hair, brown eyes, and of medium height and build. Proudfoot introduced him as Jones after the explanation as to Harry's presence._

_"You brought him in so he's you're responsibility," Morton said. "Just make sure he doesn't get in the way or touch anything."_

_"Sure thing, Boss," said Proudfoot with an exaggerated salute. She turned to Harry and winked. "Let's show you all the cool stuff."_

_The tent was divided into rooms by white partitions that hid each section from view. Harry wondered where the entrances were. His silent question was answered as Proudfoot made a movement with her wand; the elaborate swishing motion ending as a door materialised into existence. "Security," she explained as she pushed the newly-formed door open and gestured for him to get inside._

_The temperature seemed to drop as he moved further in, his shoes squeaking against the white tiled flooring. Two thick slabs of marble that reached up to his waist dominated the room. White units outlined the room with a couple of sinks on opposite sides of the room. More interesting were the jars filled with different coloured potions on top of the counters._

_"This is where we examine the body. Well, Jones is the one who does the actual examining, checks through all the organs and does all the tests. I just get to stand in and watch."_

_"Is he not an Auror, then?" he asked while thinking about the matching robes._

_"Jones?" She made a sound of disbelief. "Circe help us if he was an Auror. He's one of the few MMs that are attached to the DMLE. He trained as a healer before deciding that he didn't like dealing with sick people and hypochondriacs."_

_"MMs?" _

_"Medicus Mortis. A doctor of death, so to speak. They're not the most popular people around and every so often you get some crackpot going vigilante on one of them for despoiling cadavers. Sanctity of the dead and all that rot." She rolled her eyes._

_She then changed subject entirely. "The most important thing you'll ever learn as an Auror is how to block out the smell. Dead bodies stink like nobody's business after a while. I remember back in training where a group of us were sent out shadowing. No one bothered to teach us the spell. Something about taking the initiative and being in charge of your own learning or some such rot. Lucky for me, Granddad had taught it to me years before. In fact, do you have your wand on you?"_

_Harry nodded, pulling his wand out from the back pocket of his jeans. She rolled her eyes at his action but said nothing._

_"Righty-o, first things first, the incantation's __Anosmia__. Wand movement's just three taps on the nose." She did a quick demonstration on herself. "Got that?"_

_"Think so," said Harry, who in turn held up his wand to his nose. "__Anosmia!__"_

_"Feel any different?" she asked._

_"Not particularly," he answered honestly._

_She grinned. "Only one way to be sure." _

_She then moved across the room and opened one of the unit cabinets, pulling out what looked like a goldfish tank, only no fish swam through the clear, amber fluid. Instead there was a large, reddish-brown lump sitting in the middle with a crease illustrating the two visible lobes._

_"Are you ready?" she asked before sliding open the tank's lid._

_"Christ, that stinks!" His nose scrunched up in distaste of the truly foul smell._

_"You may want to try that spell again," she informed him cheerful with an unrepentant grin splitting her face. _

_Harry did so at once and after a few more tries managed to get the spell down. He supposed he always had worked best under the right sort of motivation._

_"What was that smell?"_

_"Liver in Preservation Potion. Lovely, huh?"_

_He glanced down at the tank. "That's not Professor Trelawney's is it?"_

_"I'm not quite that callous, you know. It's actually Jones's good luck charm from his first cadaver. Pretty freaky if you ask me."_

_Harry made a sound of agreement. _

_"Come on, I'll show you the evidence room next."_

_The evidence room was filled with grey trays. Several were laid out on a wooden table while the majority were in orderly stacks that lined the far wall. The ones on the table were filled with objects that Harry recognised as belonging to Trelawney: bangles of varying colour, the gauzy blue shawl she was wearing when she fell, her over-large glasses that were twisted and smashed from the fall and other such objects._

_Proudfoot frowned when she saw the trays. "They were supposed to have been filed," she said and gave him a concerned look as though the sight of Trelawney's belongings might cause him some distress. _

_"It's fine," he assured her. _

_"No, it's really not. You're not allowed to see anything relating to an open case, but I suppose it's too late for that now." With a shake of her head, she brandished her wand; a few flicks later had the files flying towards the wall and neatly stacking themselves up._

_"Have you figured out why Professor Trelawney jumped yet?"_

_"We're still looking in to it. As we said earlier, we think it's likely to be death by misadventure, but I'm not at liberty to say more than that, especially since the case is on-going. We don't think you pushed her if that's what you're wondering," she told him with a grin._

_That thought hadn't even entered Harry's head but he grinned back all the same. _

_"I was also wondering - I mean in the interview you looked at Morton when you heard about Abravan and I was wondering..." he trailed off, feeling rather stupid for bringing up the subject and wishing he'd kept his mouth shut._

_"He's known to us," she said tightly._

_The subject was hastily dropped and she went on to run through the procedure involved in acquiring evidence. Every piece had to be checked for curses and any traces of potion before they could be properly examined. _

_"Do you use the Revealing Spell to check for curses?" Harry wanted to know._

_"__Aperio Arcana_? We do for most cases, but sometimes a bit more finesse is needed so we use more advanced spells. You also get some detection spells that can find an echo, which is pretty helpful." At his blank look she explained further. "Each wand has its own magical signature - much like everyone has different fingerprints, right? Whenever you cast a spell, part of the magical residue that lingers is made up of your wand's magical signature, an echo of the caster, if you will. Unfortunately, some people know how to distort or simply get rid of their magical signature entirely. You also get the problem that it might be someone else's wand, be from overseas and so not registered, or else have been brought from the black-market.

"So could someone get rid of their magical residue altogether?" He was thinking back on the train driver and the lack of a magical residue.

"Nah, that's impossible. Just the magical signature."

As they toured the rest of the tent's facilities, Proudfoot gave out some more information about curses. It was especially interesting to hear that wands were one of the most commonly cursed items.

"It makes sense when you think about it," she told him. "What's the only thing you can't point your wand at? The wand itself!"

Many curses were latent. The ones on wands usually only kicked in after a certain number of spells were used. Some people even carve runes on the wand to amplify the effect.

"Do you need to take Ancient Runes to become an Auror, then?"

"It's helpful to have, but not essential. You need NEWT Defence, Charms, Potions and Transfiguration at EE grade at least."

"Potions?" Harry couldn't imagine passing his Potion's OWL, let alone the NEWT. He'd actually been hoping to drop the subject as soon as he possibly could.

"Not a favourite subject I gather?"

"One of my worst. My teacher hates me."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "I can sympathise – my Ancient Runes teacher hated my guts and bumped up the NEWT entrance grade just so I couldn't get in. Lucky for me, I had a friend who helped me out and I sat my NEWT after I left Hogwarts. Still failed, mind you.

"But Potions is one of the essentials, I'm afraid. You need to know all the different poisons and specific antidotes and how they affect the body. It's also good to know about the different potions involved in concealment, like Polyjuice Potion. I've got one friend who passed Concealment and Disguise by brewing up a bunch of different potions to alter her appearance, so it's pretty useful stuff to know."

"S'pose," said Harry who thought that it might be a good idea to start paying some attention in Potions from now on.

Proudfoot glanced down at her watch. "Seems it's lunch time."

"I probably ought to be getting back to the castle," said Harry. "I've still got to write a History essay for tomorrow."

"Goblin rebellion by any chance?"

"You had Binns too, I'm guessing."

She grinned. "When he was still in the land of the living. I doubt death has improved his teaching ability."

They were still discussing the pointlessness of learning about goblin rebellions when they came to the entrance to the tent. Morton and Jones were nowhere to be seen though their empty tea cups remained.

"So all that's left is to ask is whether you're interested in joining the Aurors after Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely."

Proudfoot grinned and gestured for him to exit the tent.

"...was anaemic and she's made a note that her alcohol consumption had-" as soon as Jones saw Harry he broke off.

"I'm guessing you got the medical records off Madame Pomfrey?" questioned Proudfoot with a raised eyebrow.

Jones nodded sharply.

"Harry's just leaving. It's lunch time for him."

"Right, well I hope you enjoyed the tour then. And enjoy Hogwarts' meals while you still can." Jones gave a tight smile and held out his hand.

Harry shook it before looking around at everyone. "Thanks for letting me look around. It's really interesting."

"Oh, and before I forget – _finite!_" Proudfoot waved her wand at his nose. "Figured you'd like your sense of smell back for lunch."

Harry thanked her, and then thanked her again for the tour. He then turned to go only for Phil the cameraman to suddenly ask for his autograph. "If you don't mind," he added on.

Slightly bewildered, Harry agreed, and soon found himself scrawling his signature on several pieces of parchment (the others had decided they wouldn't mind his autograph either).

"Well it's not every day you meet _the_ Harry Potter, is it?" Proudfoot told him with a grin. "And if you could make it out to Ellie, please. Oh, and you wouldn't mind signing this for my gran, would you? She's a bit of a fan."

Finally finishing all the requests, he eventually made his way back to the castle. Students were slowly filtering into the Great Hall for lunch and Harry joined the stream, soon finding himself sitting between Ron and Seamus.

_"How was Hagrid?" Ron asked in greeting_

_"He wasn't in." He was bursting to tell Ron about what he'd been doing for the last few hours before he thought better of it. He already knew Ron's reaction – jealousy. Instead he made a mention of walking around the grounds to clear his head._

_"But how's the essay going? It doesn't take too long, does it? I still need to do it."_

_He then got to sit through a lunch filled with a rant on goblin rebellions followed by a moan about Hermione. In the end, Seamus turned around and told Ron to shut up since they'd all heard it before. Ron left soon after._

_"How you put up with Ron and Hermione all the time, I don't know," commented Seamus soon after Ron's departure. _

_"You learn to tune it out after a while," Harry told him. _

_He quickly finished off his lunch and was heading out of the hall when a voice called his name. Turning round, he saw Terry rushing towards him. They soon fell into step with each other._

_"Padma told me what happened. Are you alright?"_

_He was the only one, Harry suddenly realised as he gave his usual "Fine" response, who had asked him that except for Madame Pomfrey, who always asked. More curiously, he wondered why he wasn't surprised by that._

_"How's Padma?" he asked as they ascended the marble staircase._

_"Coping, but still in a bit of shock over the whole thing. I think I would be too. Not every day you see a professor throw themselves off a tower."_

_"No, it's not," agreed Harry before grinning at how ludicrous the conversation was. "Though I'd more say she let herself fall backwards rather than a throwing action."_

_They took a left turn and walked seven paces down the stone corridor before stepping into a wall that was only an illusion. Beyond lay a small shaft that they walked along in single file. It brought them out to the other side of the fourth floor where a large spiral staircase made from stone stood. Harry led the way up with Terry following along behind._

_"Did Padma tell you about Dobby?" Harry asked, turning his head back as they climbed._

_"And his strange warning? Yeah, she did. Well, he did seem somewhat batty. The tea cosy's probably gone to his head," Terry laughed._

_Harry didn't laugh, though. "The last time I got a warning from Dobby it was about the Chamber of Secrets. He was even more vague then and ended up almost killing me in the name of protection."_

_They went up the last few steps and came out to on the seventh floor. It wasn't until he became conscious of where he was that Harry realised where he had been heading all along._

_"What? You think Trelawney was __murdered__?" Terry couldn't hide the incredulousness in his voice._

_"No, of course not. I was there, wasn't I? I just think there's more to this." At Terry's sceptical look Harry felt the need to defend his belief. "Look, it's more than just Trelawney's death, alright?"_

_Understanding that a lot more needed to be said - only not in a main corridor where anyone could listen in - he gestured for Terry to follow him. Stopping opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, he imagined a room where they could talk and then gestured for Terry to enter when a door appeared._

_"What is this place?" The Ravenclaw asked as he looked around the wood panelled room complete with a lit fireplace and a couple of comfy armchairs that bore a large similarity to the ones found in the Gryffindor common room._

_"The Room of Requirements," said Harry before explaining how special the room was._

_"Sounds like a holodeck or something." At Harry's confused look Terry grinned. "Obviously not a Star Trek fan. My granddad loves it, but we figure that's mainly since he's got a passing resemblance to Patrick Steward."_

_Harry knew the bare minimum about Star Trek – Dudley had never been intelligent enough to get his head around the concept of science fiction - and so decided to ignore the reference and get back on track. He detailed what he knew about the train driver's death – "_Murder most foul," commented Terry - _way back in September, made a passing reference to the Halloween Ball where Abravan had suddenly turned up in Myrtle's bathroom, explained the relevance of someone not appearing on the Marauder's Map, and ended with a recount of Trelawney's death and a brief summary of his time spent with the Aurors. _

_Terry listened to Harry with only a few small interjections and stayed silent for a long time after Harry finished speaking._

_"Do you think I'm mad?" Harry eventually asked. He had started wondering whether the adventures in the last three years had made him put together a mystery that wasn't really there. Ron and Hermione didn't seem particularly interested and Harry hadn't really wanted to talk to Padma about it all in case it upset her or, worse, made her think he was mad. Terry was neutral ground: a friend but one whose opinion didn't mean all that much in the grand scheme of things if he was being truly honest with himself; he had known him only a couple of months, after all._

_"No, I don't think you're mad," Terry told him. "Maybe a bit perverted for going to a girls' bathroom but-" _

_"I was looking for Ron at the time," Harry interjected._

_"Then it's Ron who's a bit perverted," said Terry with a grin. "But I don't think you're crazy. It all does seem a bit odd, but I'm not totally convinced that they're all connected. Did the Aurors mention anything about the withered body?"_

_"Didn't really have the opportunity to ask, and it would probably have looked a bit odd if I had. I did ask about Abravan, though."_

_"What did they say?"_

_"That he was known to them. I don't think she wanted to talk about Abravan."_

_Terry looked intrigued. "In that case, I have a plan."_


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Sorry for the rather long delay with this, especially since it was mostly ready a couple of weeks ago but I wasn't fully happy with it and so went on a small editing spree. I'll also blame real life while I'm at it. Slightly linked, I actually did my first filling on a patient today – a composite class I for anyone who actually cares or even knows what that means. But the next chapter will take a while since I have exams in three weeks and really need to revise and learn about fun things such as endodontics and metabolic pathways. Also, I'm still in uni for a month after exams, so more delays are expected. And now I'm starting to sound like an old British Rail train. But this chapter is dedicated to all those who should be revising but instead end up reading fanfiction and also to my next year housemate Dela who was the only person I could find who would agree to go and watch Star Trek with me since I really want to see it again. On a final note, thank you to those who reviewed (especially those who I took an age replying to – sorry once again) and thanks to Diogenes for proof reading this chapter and that other snippet.

Chapter Fifteen

"Do you really think this is a good idea? I mean, what if we're caught?" Padma's concerned whisper filled the seemingly empty corridor.

"Screw your courage to the sticking place and we'll not fail!" came Terry's response.

Harry could feel Padma shake her head as the Invisibility Cloak twitched. "You do come out with some nonsense, Terry."

Terry heaved a sigh. "My genius is lost on you, for which you must be eternally saddened. And don't call me by my name; people might be listening. I knew we should have come up with code names. It's bad enough you made me leave my deerstalker behind."

"It wouldn't have fit under here," said Harry for the second time that night. When he'd turned up at the Room of Requirements – their designated meeting place - at nearing midnight it had been to find Terry wearing a deerstalker hat complete with a magnifying glass in hand.

More surprising, however, had been Padma's presence. "I hope you don't mind," she had said with an apologetic smile. "It's just I want some answers, too. I want to understand."

Even though he'd been a bit dubious about the idea, Harry had found himself unable to say no to her. He'd made her promise, however, that should anything go wrong then she was to get away as quickly as possible.

"Well how was I to know you'd bring along an Invisibility Cloak? I figured when you said you'd take care of getting us around the school that you knew the Disillusionment Charm or something, or else managed to brew some sort of Invisibility Potion."

"You obviously haven't heard how bad I am at Potions," said Harry whose most recent potion score had been a resounding zero. Then again, having Pansy Parkinson knock his vial sample on the floor was probably the reason for that. He hadn't even bothered to argue with Snape, knowing that it was a useless cause.

"But you are good at Charms," Terry told him. "I should know."

He was, of course, referring to Charms Club where they usually ended up as partners. Harry was continually surprised by how much his spell work had improved since he'd joined. Flitwick had even commented on it.

"I think we're here," said Padma. They all came to a halt.

"Better check that map of yours to see if anyone's about," said Terry but Harry had already had the same idea and was unfolding it now.

"_Lumos!_" he whispered, pointing the tip of his wand at the battered piece of parchment. A small beam of light shone out, acting like a torch. He scanned over the map, looking for their position.

"It's just us," he told them after a few minutes, ending the spell.

"Are we sure we want to do this?" asked Padma nervously.

Terry sighed dramatically. "Frailty, thy name is woman!" But then he grew more serious. "Do you have a better idea?"

She remained silent, but Harry could still feel her concern even if he couldn't see her face. He felt around for her hand and squeezed it gently. "It'll be fine. I promise. I've done stupider stuff and they still haven't expelled me."

He felt her nod. "I trust you."

"So what are we waiting for?" said Terry, before drawing his wand and pointing it at the lock. "_Alo-!"_

"Wait! It might already be open," Harry said. He'd prefer to leave no signs that they had been there and that included magical residue. He had the distinct feeling that Abravan would be able to trace their magical signatures.

"Alright, but what teacher in their right mind would leave their office door open?"

The door creaked open. "Looks like Abravan does," said Padma, who had pushed it open.

They all shared a quiet laugh before moving inside; a task which took longer than expected as they all tried to stay covered by the cloak - it really wasn't made to fit three fourteen year olds underneath.

Harry carefully pushed the door till it was almost closed. He even placed a folded bit of parchment by the bottom of the door frame to insure it wouldn't fully close. He'd had a rather strange feeling that should he shut it completely they might end up being sealed in.

With that taken care of, they divested themselves of the Invisibility Cloak. Harry automatically handed it over to Padma, knowing that should they be discovered, at least she could get away easily.

"_Lumos!" _Harry whispered again. His wand provided some much needed light. The other two quickly followed his example. He had planned to bring a lamp along but the addition of Padma under the cloak had scuppered that idea and he'd left it in the Room of Requirements.

The room looked as cluttered as it had when he had last visited. Books lay haphazardly across the desk along with a bunch of broken quills and many scrap pieces of parchment. A pair of horn rimmed spectacles lay half-hidden under a marked essay collecting dust and a thin, silver crucifix chain had half-slipped off the edge. In the corner of the room, a large mahogany cabinet stood with one door slightly open and an old-fashioned leather bag, very much reminiscent of what a doctor would have once carried, had been plonked on top next to a pile of books that looked like they might topple over at any given moment. Thankfully there were no portraits hanging on the walls or else they wouldn't have dared to enter.

"Do you think we should draw the curtains?" Padma asked quietly, biting on her lip as she looked nervously at the window.

Harry shook his head. "We should be fine – it just looks onto the Quidditch Pitch so no one should see the light."

She nodded and moved away from the window.

"We ought to check for curses," Harry said as he glanced around the office. "And one of us should probably be in charge of looking at the map to see if anyone's coming this way."

"I don't mind doing that," volunteered Padma and so Harry handed her the Marauder's Map and briefly explained how to wipe it blank.

Turning around, he suddenly found himself looking up. Just above the doorframe, suspended by wooden pegs, was a crossbow. His eyebrows lifted in surprise before he shook it off as eccentricity and went to check out the cabinet while Terry was busy checking the desk.

"_Aperio Arcana!"_ he said, pointing his wand at the cabinet. No curse was evident so he opened one of the doors fully.

It took him a moment to realise what he was looking at. Their long, thin bodies clung to the side of the thick glass container, an entangled mass of muddy brown with the odd green mixed in. Leeches.

He gestured to the others to take a look.

"Urgh!" said Padma, scrunching her nose in distaste. "I hate leeches."

"Talk about odd pets. I know I used to have a stick-insect when I was little, but blood-sucking leeches? No thank you," said Terry.

"What do you think he uses them for?"

"Medicinal?" suggested Padma. "I think there's a few potions which use them. They sometimes get a leech to take some of your blood so a potion is more attune to you. It's more for diseases relating to the blood. At least, I think it is."

"Open the other door," suggested Terry.

Harry did so. It revealed a small, rounded, black cauldron. Next to it sat a white mortar and pestle stained a pale yellow in places. A small collection of potion ingredients took up the rest of the space, all neatly labelled in glass jars: shredded bat wings, armadillo bile, nettle wine, rat tails, ground unicorn horn, fragmented dragon eggshell and dried billiwig stings.

"Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble," said Terry softly. "I wonder what potion he makes."

None of them could think of any corresponding potion so they went back to their search. They weren't searching for anything in particular, more just clues to see whether Abravan might be involved in the two deaths that had taken place since the beginning of the year.

Harry moved on to looking at the leather bag atop the cabinet. It wasn't cursed, however it wouldn't open. Not wanting to damage it in any way, he gave up.

Instead he moved onto the pile of books next to it. Not wanting to touch them for fear of them tumbling over, he tried to read the titles by tilting his head sideways and pointing his wand at the spines. _Garlic and Silver: What to use and when... An Anthology of Basic Curses... The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection... A Guide to Dark Creatures... Curses and Counter-curses... The Art of Duelling_. Overall, everything a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor would need.

"Er – Harry?" The sound of Padma's voice had him looking up at her. He accidently shone his wand's light in her face, making her raise a hand to shield her eyes. He quickly redirected his wand, noting her concerned expression. "I think Abravan's coming."

"What!?" He quickly sidled in next to her, looking at the area on the Marauder's Map that her wand had spotlighted.

A small dot labelled _Hamish Abravan_ was making its way downwards from the third floor. When it reached the second floor, however, it turned right.

"Where's he going?" asked Padma aloud as she turned her head to look at him. Taking a right meant he was heading away from his office.

But Harry was still staring at the map, tracing his finger over Abravan's route. With a voice filled with a sudden certainty, he said: "He's heading towards Myrtle's bathroom."

"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom? But no one goes there."

He debated over whether to reveal the importance of Myrtle's bathroom and what it hid to her, but was distracted when Terry beckoned them over to by the desk.

"The desk draw's cursed but look at some of these books," Terry said, passing him a red, leather-bound book. The gold spelling out the title had been rubbed away over time on the spine. The musty smell of oldness clung to it. "Open it."

"It's not about to scream, is it?" Harry asked, remembering a scene from his first foray into the Restricted Area of the library back in first year.

"Just open it," said Terry.

Grinning slightly, Harry turned it overleaf. On a page yellowed by the years a small circle was half-overlapped with larger crescent. It looked slightly familiar; probably something from one of their history textbooks. Underneath, a curved, unknown script had been written by hand.

Flicking forward a few pages, he came to blocks of text written in that same undecipherable lettering. He leafed through more pages but all were filled with the unknown language.

"What language is it?" he asked.

Terry shrugged. "No idea."

"Can I have a look?" asked Padma.

"Oh, sorry," said Harry, realising that she had been trying to look over his shoulder to little avail. He hurriedly passed it over, his hand briefly touching hers.

"Do you recognise it?" he asked after a brief pause. He was very conscious of the fact that Abravan was on the same level as them, even if he was heading in the direction of Myrtle's bathroom.

She shook her head. "Sorry."

"Well pass it here, and I'll stick it back where I found it," said Terry.

As Terry replaced the book, Harry's eyes briefly flickered over the assortment of books that had managed to remain in the bookshelf instead of being scattered over the room. Mixed in between such volumes as _Historical Annals: 1345-50_ and the collected works of _Great Wizarding Events_ that stretched back to the tenth century, were several more books titled in the same unknown language. Not only that, he noticed that more than a couple of the tomes were in foreign languages: French, German, Latin, Spanish, Greek and what he guessed was Russian. Added to that, on the bottom shelf was a collection of paperback fiction novels; he was surprised to see several well-known Muggle narratives side by side with their wizarding counterparts.

"Time to leave?" said Terry.

Startled out of his quick skim through, Harry turned towards him. "What? Oh, yeah; we better go. Have you got the map, Padma?"

She waved it slightly. "And I've got your Invisibility Cloak."

After one final check to make sure everything was left how they had found it, they once again charmed their feet silent. Localised spells were so very handy.

Harry relieved Padma of the Marauder's Map and, after a cursory check to make sure Abravan wasn't close by, he wiped it clean. He then quickly folded it and tucked it into his robes.

They all then extinguished the light of their wands and slipped under the cloak. Filtering carefully out of the office, Harry pulled the door closed as silently as he could having removed the impromptu wedge.

Hogwarts took on a strange quality at night. The almost reverent silence that descended on the castle seemed to emphasise its age, as though the echoes of the past whispered through the stone corridors, hinting at things that had come to pass: of friendships formed; of bitter and sometimes bloody rivalries; of mischief and heartbreak; and above all, the wave of wands as students discovered the magic that flowed through their veins.

Harry thought of his father; of how James Potter must have once crept around in the dead of night, unseen under the same Invisibility Cloak his son now wore. Footsteps lost in the passage of time.

It was only when they got to the fifth floor that they ran into a problem in the form of Peeves. The garishly dressed poltergeist was in the middle of pulling up the carpet that ran along the corridor. His solid form bobbed up and down as he cackled to himself.

Suddenly he stopped what he was doing and looked directly at them, his wicked, dark eyes glinting in the candlelight. "I know you're there. Better show yourselves to Peevsie."

The three of them remained silent, none of them daring to even move forward. Padma grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly.

There was a moment's pause before a broad grin stretched across his wide, wicked face. A squeal of delight tore forth from his mouth. He picked up the loosened carpet and gave a mighty tug.

The three of them toppled to the floor with an "Omph!" The Invisibility Cloak had partially slipped off both Padma and Harry, revealing the bottom half of their bodies. Terry, however, remained fully covered.

Thinking quickly, Harry pulled the Cloak off of himself and Padma, making sure that Terry wasn't visible. There was no point in all three of them getting into trouble.

"Give the rug a tug, and then reveal the thug!" cackled Peeves. He then zoomed towards where they stood, making Padma bite back a gasp. He encircled them once before facing them as he hovered mid-air with his legs crossed. "Students out of bed. Naughty, naughty. "

"Please don't say anything," said Padma.

Harry had run into Peeves after curfew before, however, and knew what was going to follow. He tightly gripped her hand and, trying to do his best ventriloquist impression, told her to run when he said so.

"Oh, but I should tell Filch. It's my-"

"But Ter-"

"Run!" Together they sprinted past Peeves, making him twirl in the air.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED ON THE FOURTH FLOOR!" bellowed Peeves as they took a corner.

Left. Another left. Up the wooden stairwell. Through an abandoned classroom. Now a right. Harry didn't know where he was going as they twisted through the stone passageways.

Eventually they stopped in an empty corridor, hiding in the shadows behind a bulky suit of armour as they tried to catch their breath. His heart thumped madly and their gasps seemed ridiculously loud in the quiet setting.

Then he heard it. A slight clatter of footsteps in the distance. "Sniff around, my sweet. They can't have got far, the filthy little miscreants."

Padma turned to look at him, her eyes wide. "Filch," she squeaked.

"Quick," he said, grabbing her hand once again and pulling her into the corridor and towards the nearest door. "In here."

They bundled in through the door and Harry quickly closed it. "_Lūcan_!" he whispered with a flick of his wand, effectively sealing the door shut.

He sighed in relief and tried to move further in only to knock into something and end up half-falling against something soft.

"_Lumos!_" said Padma softly. The tip of her wand lit up providing the only source of light.

They were in a broom cupboard. Harry saw that it was a tin bucket that had caused his fall and that the top half his body was now resting against several rather dusty cloths that someone had hung up while one bent leg took the rest of his weight.

Padma let out a laugh at his precarious positioning before clamping her hands over her mouth. Her eyes danced with mirth.

_You can laugh_, he mouthed silently, trying to look affronted.

She removed her hands from mouth. _I will_, she mouthed back, smiling widely.

He couldn't help but smile back.

"We'll find them, my sweet. Oh, if only Dumbledore would bring back the days of real punishment. Then I'd show these filthy little beasts what for. None of them would dare cross me then." Filch's voice sounded nearby and Harry could almost picture his quivering jowls and his sunken cheeks as he prowled along the corridor with Mrs Norris, his dust-coloured cat.

Harry looked at Padma and raised an eyebrow. _I think he wants to whip me_, he mouthed.

She bit her lip before grinning wildly and giving him a slight whack. _Don't make me laugh_.

_I don't think me getting whipped is a laughing matter._

She blinked in confusion, not having understood. _What? _

_Doesn't matter_, he mouthed back, dismissing it with a wave of his hand and a shake of the head.

They remained silent for a few minutes as they heard Filch walk passed their broom cupboard and further down the corridor.

After a while, Harry tugged on Padma's robes to get her attention. "Can you help me up?" he whispered.

Smiling, she grasped his arms and pulled him up. Overbalancing slightly, he tilted forward and ended up pressed against her.

"Sorry," he said quietly, moving back slightly. They were still only a few inches apart and he suddenly realised just how cramped the broom cupboard was. He also noticed that her hands were still on his arms.

She seemed to realise this too as she removed them. A pink blush spread across her cheeks and she looked down. She bit her lip slightly.

"Thanks," he said, his eyes focusing on her lips.

She looked at him then and smiled. There was a slight pause and then: "You've got some dust in your hair."

He pushed a hand through his hair trying to remove it. Nothing came out.

She laughed softly at his attempts before catching his hand. "I'll get it." She then turned his head slightly and picked out the cluster of dust. "There."

She smiled up at him and Harry found himself honing in on her lips. Then, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, his eyes slid closed and his lips were on hers.

It was a strange sensation. Strange but pleasant. Her lips were soft and tasted of strawberry lip balm.

After a few seconds he pulled back, swallowing nervously as he waited for her to open her eyes.

Her eyelids fluttered open and their eyes met. A small, almost secretive smile graced her lips as she pushed an imagined lock of hair behind her right ear.

Not wanting to ruin this moment with words, Harry pulled her towards him, wrapping his left arm around her tiny waist in a half-hugging action. She quickly buried her head against his shoulder.

They stood there for a while, just enjoying each other's presence, until the distant chiming of a clock reminded them of what time it was.

"We better get back," Harry told her somewhat reluctantly.

"Hmm," agreed Padma sleepily, her head still tucked into his shoulder.

Smiling over her, he placed a kiss on top of her forehead before manoeuvring his right arm to retrieve the Marauder's Map. Muttering a quick "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," he checked for their position.

"We're all clear," he said, shaking her slightly.

"Alright," she said, removing her head from its resting place with a slight scrunch of her nose. She offered him a shy smile before turning her head away slightly.

"Come on," he said, cancelling the Locking Charm and pushing the door open. He stepped out first and then turned back to offer her his hand.

Once outside of the broom cupboard, their hands remained entwined. Hers a caramel brown and his a pale white.

They walked in silence, sharing looks and smiles. Somehow they went from holding hands to his arm around her waist.

There were no run-ins with either Peeves or the caretaker – Harry kept a close eye on the map - and they reached the spiral staircase which led to Ravenclaw Tower without incident.

"It's just up there," she told him as they came to a halt and broke apart from one another.

"Will you be able to get in at this time?" he asked. "It's just sometimes the Fat Lady – the portrait that guards Gryffindor Tower – leaves her frame. I don't want you to be stuck outside all night."

"I'll be fine," she reassured him. "I just have to answer a question."

"Oh, right," said Harry, suddenly realising that this was the end of their night time adventure.

"I'm really glad I came along," she told him with a small smile.

"So am I."

They stood there for a moment. Padma's eyes rested on the floor as she bit down on her lower lip. Slowly she raised her head and, giving him a shy smile, she went on tiptoes and kissed him, their noses almost knocking together in the process.

"I really like you," he blurted out as the kiss came to an end.

"I sort of hoped you did," Padma told him, blushing heavily. "I really like you, too."

He couldn't stop the wide grin that spread across his face. "So, are we - er, you know...? Because I'm sure the next Hogsmeade weekend will be better since it's not like Trelawney's around to jump again and I really shouldn't have said that." He decided it was best that he stop speaking having already made a total botched job of it.

But Padma was - remarkably in Harry's opinion - smiling at him. "I'd like that."

"You would? Really?"

She nodded, half-laughing at his incredulity.

"That's great," he said and, because it felt like the right thing to do, he kissed her again.

They were both smiling as the kiss came to an end. For a moment they merely stood, content to just look at each other.

"I better get going," she said, gesturing slightly to the spiral staircase.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" he half-asked, not making any move to go.

She nodded and started towards the spiral staircase. After the first couple of steps, she turned her head back to look at him. She gave him a small smile before ducking her head and disappearing up the stairs.

He stood there for a while in the now empty corridor, a slow grin spreading across his face.

Eventually, he started heading back to his own common room after checking with the Marauders' Map to make sure she had been able to get in alright. The journey was uneventful and he was relieved to find the Fat Lady in residence even if she was snoozing. After going through the trouble of waking her up ("Just what sort of time do you call this!?"), he gave her the password and entered the common room.

He had been expecting to find it empty – it had just gone three am – and so was taken by surprise when he noticed Colin Creevey was sitting cross-legged on the floor with twenty or so photographs spread out around him. As he got closer, he noticed that most of them were of Hogwarts but he then noticed a few that depicted Trelawney on top of the tower, her form swaying to and fro. More curious, however, was the half a dozen or so of Trelawney's dead body lying still against the ground.

Colin watched him with a stoic expression, nodding at him in greeting instead of his usual, cheery "All right, Harry?" Harry merely nodded back before walking towards the boys' dormitory stairs. If Colin wasn't going to question him about his night time wanderings then Harry wasn't about to question him on why he had taken photos of Trelawney's corpse.

Tiredness hit him as he trudged up the stairs to his dormitory. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was sleep.

Entering his shared room, the first thing he noticed was the unusual stink; a funny, rather unpleasant smell that he didn't recognise. Coughing slightly, he cast "_Anosmia!_" over his nose before sluggishly changing into his pyjamas and climbing into bed.

Making sure the Marauders' Map was fully covered by his pillow, he put his head to the cushion and immediately fell asleep with a grin on his face.


End file.
